Short story
Cuento escrito en otro idioma
Manuela has black hair like jet and her white
porcelain skin. Her lips are red, very red, like a ripe cherry and when she
sighs she opens them slightly as if imitating a kiss, one that she did not give
or that she did not receive, who knows. Many men lost their heads by those
lips, and by those lips, she lost her sanity.
Manuela mixed her thick red lips with the
colors of spring, in an obsession with flowers, balloons and colors. Her room
was impregnated with joy, life, and her clothes were tinged with smiles and
emotions. One day, for no reason, happiness was broken when at dawn she awoke. She
could not stand seeing the colors and with euphoria and madness she began to
scream.
The coloring drove her crazy. She started by
tearing images from her wall, ripping clothes. Suddenly, she slammed the door.
The silence was gray, everything was broken, except for a mirror on the wall,
which she held in her hands. She looked at herself and seeing the bright red of
her lips, grabbed a pair of scissors and finished with them, while she writhed
on the floor, screaming, crying, sighing and wanting to remember that the deep
red blood would be her downfall.
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