Jose and the Nurse
"It's obvious no one has been in this room for one hundred years."
Tall, broad-shouldered, proud, and always dressed in abundant petticoats with lace and an air of distinction; such was her fashion. If it hadn’t been for hardened cheers and missed telecasts of fickle, imbibing crowds and machiavellian stock brokers, she would have looked younger that she actually was. Her only objective was to complete the shrug. To exit with her soul intact. She got up with her albatross, thinking an animosity had entered at the root of her domestic duties and motivations. Tisane with a cup of introspection was in order.
Jose, who was then finishing his military trajectory, finally woke up to reality and went to the bar. His being projected a simplistic masculine fortissimo. Things had changed since school. Days and nights were spent in constant dances of activity.
He frightened the cro-magnons with noisy bamboozlement, his percussive demeanor filled up every chamber of her apartments. The sounds traveled down the streets like a waterfall crashing onto a thousand throbbing hearts. Even strangers became overwhelmed with joy when confronted with such compassionate togetherness.
Once she thought of warning him of the Scotsman. Like all good things that occurred in his long life, that tremendous fortune had its origins in chance.
One morning, when she could no longer resist, she took the opportunity and went to his bedroom. The following day they married in the cool morning beneath two banana trees.
A pillow found, it had died with them in the rocking chair. The highest ranking officer that day, a paler fellow from the north, kept it by him, putting it in his own chambers. It reminded him of the notion of love he had had in his capricious younger years. He looked to the poet, who had been peering out the window childlike glow in his eyes, mumbling about “rare and grand romance.” The officer knew such was the nature of dreamers and turned his mind towards other matters. It was his duty to explain the otherworldly back to rumor and exaggeration.
After her departure, old comrades reappeared from the diffuse neighborhoods. He did recover, but fate had reversed the circumstances beyond the comprehension of reasonable men. He followed after ten days.
Tall, broad-shouldered, proud, and always dressed in abundant petticoats with lace and an air of distinction; such was her fashion. If it hadn’t been for hardened cheers and missed telecasts of fickle, imbibing crowds and machiavellian stock brokers, she would have looked younger that she actually was. Her only objective was to complete the shrug. To exit with her soul intact. She got up with her albatross, thinking an animosity had entered at the root of her domestic duties and motivations. Tisane with a cup of introspection was in order.
Jose, who was then finishing his military trajectory, finally woke up to reality and went to the bar. His being projected a simplistic masculine fortissimo. Things had changed since school. Days and nights were spent in constant dances of activity.
He frightened the cro-magnons with noisy bamboozlement, his percussive demeanor filled up every chamber of her apartments. The sounds traveled down the streets like a waterfall crashing onto a thousand throbbing hearts. Even strangers became overwhelmed with joy when confronted with such compassionate togetherness.
Once she thought of warning him of the Scotsman. Like all good things that occurred in his long life, that tremendous fortune had its origins in chance.
One morning, when she could no longer resist, she took the opportunity and went to his bedroom. The following day they married in the cool morning beneath two banana trees.
A pillow found, it had died with them in the rocking chair. The highest ranking officer that day, a paler fellow from the north, kept it by him, putting it in his own chambers. It reminded him of the notion of love he had had in his capricious younger years. He looked to the poet, who had been peering out the window childlike glow in his eyes, mumbling about “rare and grand romance.” The officer knew such was the nature of dreamers and turned his mind towards other matters. It was his duty to explain the otherworldly back to rumor and exaggeration.
After her departure, old comrades reappeared from the diffuse neighborhoods. He did recover, but fate had reversed the circumstances beyond the comprehension of reasonable men. He followed after ten days.
posted by Rolling Peter at 3:18 PM
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