A Scene
Ana Ovejero
Sitting by the window, Ernest saw the snowflakes
falling from the sky. His skinny finger drew sad faces on the glass. He had
been isolated from the world for months. He couldn’t remember the smell of the
city in winter, the nude branches of the trees, the slick surface of the lake.
His longing for fresh air was excruciating. Since his
lung cancer being diagnosed, his friend and family had kept him enclosed, like
in a bubble.
Patrick opened the door. He moved t-shirts, trousers,
sneakers, underpants away with the tip of his shoe. He bought the latest
result. Ernest would die tomorrow. There was an antidote, but it was painful. Also,
he would have to live his whole life inside the four walls of his flat; the
touch of spring, the heat of summer, the fallen leaves of autumn, the cold air
of winter, lost friends forever.
Ernest took a deep breath. The antidote? His life had
become a prison. Was he a criminal? Did he deserve a life sentence?
When Richard left, Ernest put on some sneakers, looked
for a scarf his mother has knitted for him, and engulfed himself in his beloved
father’s coat.
Taking the first step outside his flat took all his
determination. It had been months. The freezing air surprised him. The winter
had come with intensity despite the global warming experts. The silence
overwhelmed him. He thanked God? Destiny? Supernatural forces? For the opportunity to die surrounded by nature, to
have the courage to end it his way, to have the freedom to choose.
mail: ana.ovejero@gmail.com
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