Linero Moreno had been up all night to write the letter. At dawn on the table, laid down his pen, he gave the last look slow and gently put his lips on the recipient's name. Sheet sprinkled with perfume and rolled it up with experience. Then he took a red silk tie from the drawer and tied loosely at the center. He put the letter in the empty milk bottle and after he was dressed in white patent leather shoes to his hat, went against the flow of the first workers to the home of Marisol Reyes, without being seen by the servant left the bottle outside the door.
Behind the door came faint sighs and sobs of tears. Dona
Rosalba shook his head and passed on. "Love's Labour." Thought "Great beast." There was also
past her, at the time of the first revolution, and had survived without major injuries. He would have done the same girl, she was sure. With arms full of empty bottles down the steps to narrow the distance insecure patio.
"And this?" Said finding a bottle alone. He put it together with the other, the milkman would pass, like every morning, to withdraw them.
"It will be here soon" he said in looking forward.
The time was always the same. The 7.35. Florentino Urbino hurriedly put in linen pants and light shirt. He took his hat and shoes and went out the back window, leaving her lover in a deep sleep, after a sleepless night. He thought of her husband in the back from his turn to vigilante, to wake up and claim the crumbs of what he had just consumed. The
spettavail around the village to collect the empty containers to fill, and return in the afternoon. In half of the homes not only those delivered. And that was why he loved his work.
He stopped at the gates, took the bottle, gave a smile to women who watched the embroidered curtains and greeted old gestures, taking off his hat and with a slight bow.
Florentino filled the body of his three-wheeler around noon.
"Just in time for lunch."
After lunch, Giselle Marin came out in the sun and squinted at her husband sleeping on the hammock in the shade of the magnolia. The worst was leaving the job. Milking cows and fill the bottles. All the same level. He had to be good care, more than once Florentino came back with the complaints of customers because they wanted to close all of the same treatment.
"And this?" Giselle turned the bottle and found herself in a hand-rolled sheet. Untied the red tape and read curious. Row after row
felt the breath being weak and imagined each inflict torture by her husband. The letter was not signed and she wondered why he was there, but suddenly it seemed clear Florentino any delay, any excuse, any absence.
"The face I see in that bitch."
The face in the mirror was the ghost of Marisol. Wasted face, with deep shadows of tears and sleepless nights for news from Moreno and promises that did not arrive.
rang the bell and jumped. Combed his hair and quickly ran down the stairs in the hope of seeing his love for the door. Dona Rosalba found arguing with a woman furious when he realized that his arrival home pushed to the ground and went to meet with the intention to hit.
And he did. Slapped her with a letter, insulted, threatened to be flushed to leave her man, or he would find himself six feet under ground or on the riverbed. Marisol
picked up the sheet fell on the carpet, read and color shots. He left the woman and returned to his curses light in the room. He recognized the scent of Moreno, his words whispered under the window in the warm evenings. And that red lace.
The bride was a red string around his waist, laughing, and started posing for the usual photos, along with Dona Rosalba crying. Moreno Linero, dressed in white toast with your guests and Giselle Marin, the witness of his wife. She
hiding the worry of not seeing her husband for a couple of days. Despite all the winds of jealousy struck again and he felt compassion for vigilante, who was arrested in the morning before the murder of his wife.
"will return" is reached and said Marisol.
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