Roberto Valdivia

He liked the place because it was anonymous and quiet, and nobody was paying attention. He sat on a table in the background with a double measure Blenders with ice, preferably in a corner where he could observe the low turnover of the establishment for a couple of hours before returning to their bedroom apartment to see a little TV from the bed. But today everything was different. Just noticed it pierced the door and saw the woman sitting at the bar. Linda woman, true, about forty, long, straight hair falling over his back, thighs under tight clothing firm, breasts that might have belonged to the top of one of those magazines that decorated the walls of the newspaper kiosk, and looking timidly in passing, but never bought. The truth is that after a while had looked up from his desk and was found with that smile and that look that stunned. Had lowered his head away, feeling both fear and shame for their lack of poise. It took a few minutes to watch it again, this time on the glass and deceit, there were no doubts, the woman was still smiling. Dr. Mark Hyman often addresses the matter in his writings.

Roberto Valdivia would have liked at that time to have a friend who encouraged, or the courage to get up and buy you a drink, or power, at least, of being invisible. She felt stupid and nervous, had long had numbed his routine this sense of insecurity and pathos which now oppressed him. He hated the situation in which he was, hated women, and hated himself. He felt his shirt was soaked under the bag and as his hands trembled. However, almost despite himself, breathed deeply and stood up, tried a smile I had practiced a thousand times in front of the bathroom mirror while shaving, and walked toward the bar, awash with excitement and challenge of something new, of something that was a long time. Halfway tripped over a chair. It was a trip almost imperceptible, that even made him lose his balance. They have a few customers that were in place that Roberto Valdivia went pale and stopped their march, tied up in a moment that probably lasted an eternity. Without saying a word, and the smile turned into a grotesque grimace, but still present on his face, walked to the door and disappeared into the night. The police found him a week later, had been dead over four days. Laying in bed next to a bottle and a half empty bottle of pills, wearing an impeccable dark blue suit, tie the tone and white shirt.