Miguel walks alone in the fading light of dusk, his
steps heavy, faltering against the unyielding asphalt. The city’s towering
buildings block the horizon, blurring into a haze through his faintly tearful
eyes. A cold gust of wind brushes past, carrying fragments of distant noise—a
jarring, fleeting melody from a passing car. Above, the night descends in a
silent flutter, draping its shadow over his weary frame.
-oOo-
Isabel’s gaze held him, her eyes soft yet piercing,
brimming with unspoken promises. Their hands inched closer across the worn café
table, her fingers abandoning the cold condensation of her glass. Miguel’s hand
trembled slightly, drawn to hers as if by instinct. Then, a fleeting touch—her
hand, warm and alive, met his. Without a word, their fingers intertwined,
gripping tighter, as if afraid the moment might dissolve. In that quiet clasp,
the world beyond their hands ceased to exist.
-oOo-
Miguel trudges onward, his pace uneven, quickening
whenever a stranger brushes past. He isn’t fleeing—not exactly. No one pursues
him, yet his shadow clings relentlessly, a silent companion on this endless
avenue. The city feels alien, its lights smudged and unfamiliar, as though he’s
wandered into a dream that isn’t his. His chest tightens; exhaustion weighs on
him, each step a battle against the infinite stretch of this unchanging road.
-oOo-
“Why are you alone?” Antonio’s voice cut through the
din of the crowded bar, his hand extended in greeting.
“She couldn’t come,” Miguel replied, his voice flat,
hollowed by something unspoken.
Antonio’s smile didn’t waver. “No worries, man.
Maribel’s here.”
Miguel’s gaze drifted to her—Maribel, laughing softly
in the corner, her presence a spark in the dim room. For a moment, he felt
lighter, as if her warmth could thaw the ache he carried.
-oOo-
Miguel glances at his watch, the hands glowing
faintly: 9:30 p.m. The sun, now a dying ember on the horizon, casts a frail red
glow. He walks on, each step slower, as if the weight of time itself presses against
him. The avenue stretches endlessly before him, a ribbon of asphalt leading
nowhere.
-oOo-
“Does the light bother you?” Maribel’s whisper was
soft, teasing, her breath warm against his ear.
“A little,” Miguel admitted, still unaware of the pull
drawing him closer.
Without a word, she guided him to a shadowed corner of
the bar, where couples melted into their own private worlds, oblivious to the
chaos around them. The faint red glow of a neon sign barely reached them. In
that dim refuge, words became unnecessary. A current, primal and unspoken,
surged between them—her fingers tracing his jaw, his hands finding her waist.
They surrendered to a dance of touches, a fleeting escape from the weight of
their separate lives.
-oOo-
Miguel’s body trembles, a bone-deep cold seeping into
his weary limbs. The avenue morphs into a narrow bridge, its fragile railing
his only anchor. Below, a river of cars streaks by, their colors bleeding into
the twilight. His heart rebels, urging him to leap, to end the torment gnawing
at his soul. Yet his hands, driven by some primal instinct, cling to the
railing with desperate strength. A war rages within him—surrender versus
survival. At last, he releases his grip, stumbles back, and bolts across the
bridge. His legs falter; he hesitates. A blinding flash—a car’s
headlights—rushes toward him. Too late, he tries to dodge. A sickening thud,
the screech of tires, and pain explodes through him. The car vanishes into the
stream of traffic, leaving him sprawled on the asphalt, the world spinning into
darkness.
-oOo-
Miguel stumbled home, the buzz of alcohol clouding his
thoughts, his heart still alight from the night’s fleeting warmth. As he
reached his door, a figure emerged from the shadows—Isabel. Her presence struck
him like a blow.
“What are you doing here?” he stammered, his voice
unsteady.
Her eyes locked onto his, a storm of emotions swirling
within them—love, betrayal, accusation, all at once. No words came, only that
piercing gaze. Understanding crashed over him like a wave. “It wasn’t me!” he
cried, his voice breaking. “I didn’t mean it—you have to believe me!”
But Isabel said nothing. Her hands, once firm on his
shoulders, slipped away, lifeless. She turned, her silhouette fading into the
night, leaving him grasping at air, his pleas dissolving into silence.
-oOo-
Miguel lies crumpled on the pavement, his breaths
shallow, ragged. Pain radiates through his body, sharp and unrelenting. He
tries to rise, but his limbs betray him. His gaze falls to the asphalt, where a
dark stain spreads—his blood, glistening under the streetlights. His trembling
hand touches his forehead, fingers coming away slick with warmth. A shudder
runs through him. With a final surge of will, he forces himself to his feet,
swaying like a broken marionette. He presses a handkerchief to his brow; it
comes away stained with crimson.
Staggering, Miguel retraces his steps down the endless
avenue. Behind him, the small pool of blood fades into the asphalt, swallowed
by the city’s indifference, like so many things lost to time.
A chance encounter will take him far away, on a
thrilling adventure full of action and emotion that will change his life... but
also the lives of everyone around him…
“Fleeing into silence”: https://a.co/d/7SUfVb3
