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El silencio era sepulcral, solo roto por el ocasional ladrido de un perro o el grito de un borracho.
En una de esas casas, una mujer despertó sobresaltada.
Había tenido una pesadilla, una de tantas que la atormentaban desde que su esposo había desaparecido.
Se levantó de la cama y se dirigió a la cocina, quería beber agua. Al pasar por la sala, vio el televisor apagado, el sofá vacío, el retrato de su familia colgado en la pared.
Recordó los días felices, cuando su esposo la abrazaba y le decía que todo iba a mejorar, que pronto saldrían de ese país sin luz.
Su esposo era un periodista, un hombre valiente y comprometido con la verdad. Había denunciado los abusos del sistema, las violaciones de los derechos humanos, la corrupción y muchas cosas más.
Recibió amenazas, pero no se dejó intimidar. Hasta que un día, hace tres meses, salió a cubrir una protesta y no volvió.
La mujer había buscado incansablemente a su esposo, había ido a hospitales, comisarías, morgues. Nadie le daba una respuesta, nadie le ofrecía una esperanza. Solo le quedaba orar y soñar con que algún día regresaría.
Estando en la cocina abrió el grifo. No salió ni una gota de agua. Suspiró y lo cerró. Era lo habitual en ese país sin agua.
Se dirigió al refrigerador y lo abrió. Estaba vacío. No había nada que comer. Era lo normal en ese país con hambre.
Sintió un escalofrío y se abrazó a sí misma.
Estaba enferma, tenía fiebre y tos. No tenía medicinas ni dinero para comprarlas. Era lo esperable en ese país sin salud.
Escuchó un ruido en la puerta. Alguien estaba tratando de abrirla. Se asustó y corrió a su habitación. Buscó su celular y marcó el 911. Nadie contestó. Era lo previsible en ese país sin seguridad.
Se escondió debajo de la cama y esperó que el intruso se fuera. Pero no se fue. El intruso entró en la casa y caminó por la sala. La mujer oyó sus pasos y su respiración se aceleró.
—¿Dónde estás?
Ella reconoció la voz. Era su esposo.
La mujer no podía creerlo.
Salió de su escondite y corrió hacia él. Lo abrazó con fuerza y lloró de alegría.
Le preguntó ¿cómo estaba, de donde venía, que había pasado?
Su esposo no respondió.
Ella lo besó con pasión y lo invitó al sofá.
La mujer se dejó llevar por el momento. No le importaba nada más que estar con él.
No se dio cuenta de que su esposo tenía una herida sangrante en el pecho.
No se percató de que su esposo tenía los ojos sin luz.
No se fijó que estaba Muerto.
Es mi responsabilidad compartir con ustedes que, como hispanohablante, he tenido que recurrir al traductor Deepl para poder llevar mi contenido original en español al idioma inglés. Igualmente, manifiesto que he usado la herramienta de revisión gramatical Grammarly.
The silence was sepulchral, broken only by the occasional bark of a dog or the shout of a drunk.
In one of these houses, a woman woke up startled.
She had had a nightmare, one of many that had plagued her since her husband had disappeared.
He got out of bed and headed for the kitchen, wanting a drink of water. As he passed through the living room, he saw the TV turned off, the sofa empty, his family portrait hanging on the wall.
She remembered the happy days, when her husband would hug her and tell her that everything was going to get better, that soon they would leave that country without light.
Her husband was a journalist, a brave man committed to the truth. He had denounced the abuses of the system, human rights violations, corruption and much more.
He received threats but did not allow himself to be intimidated. Until one day, three months ago, he went out to cover a protest and did not return.
The woman had searched tirelessly for her husband, she had gone to hospitals, police stations, morgues. No one gave her an answer, no one offered her hope. She could only pray and dream that someday he would return.
While in the kitchen, she turned on the faucet. Not a drop of water came out. He sighed and turned it off. It was the norm in that waterless country.
He went to the refrigerator and opened it. It was empty. There was nothing to eat. It was the norm in that hungry country.
She felt a shiver and hugged herself.
She was sick, had a fever and a cough. She had no medicine and no money to buy it. It was to be expected in that unhealthy country.
He heard a noise at the door. Someone was trying to open it. He panicked and ran to his room. She reached for her cell phone and dialed 911. No one answered. It was to be expected in this country with no security.
He hid under the bed and waited for the intruder to leave. But he did not leave. The intruder entered the house and walked through the living room. The woman heard his footsteps and her breathing quickened.
—Where are you?
She recognized the voice. It was her husband.
The woman could not believe it.
She came out of hiding and ran to him. She hugged him tightly and cried tears of joy.
He asked her how she was, where she came from, what had happened?
Her husband did not answer.
She kissed him passionately and invited him to the couch.
The woman let herself be carried away by the moment. She cared about nothing but being with him.
She did not realize that her husband had a bleeding wound in his chest.
She did not notice that her husband's eyes were unlit.
He did not notice that he was DEAD.
*It is my responsibility to share with you that, as a Spanish speaker, I have had to resort to the translator Deepl in order to translate my original Spanish content into the English language. I also state that I have used the grammar checking tool Grammarly.
Creada y Editada con CANVA - Created and Edited using CANVA
Humo - Smoke
Autor: Jacques_Barrette
Mi Voz editada con Capcut - My Voice edited with Capcut
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