Siete minutos, Ismael Camacho Arango [read with me TXT] 📗

on his life at that time. On seeing a beautiful woman in the market one day, Homer had chased her through the crowd, crashing with the stalls in his way. He had never seen anything else like that since his trip to the jungle.
“What a woman,” he muttered to himself.
After he had followed her for a few minutes, she stopped to talk to Fray Serapio by the church steps. Homer looked at the merchandise in one of the shops, as the girl talked to the priest and the sun warmed his head. Then she kissed the man of God. Homer had never liked Fray Serapio, with his bold head and huge nose. Then he chased her through the traffic, the car drivers shouting obscenities.
“Do you want to die?” they asked.
Homer ran along the shops full of merchandise, but she must have gone inside one of the houses at the end of the street. Miguel also lived there with his large family. Homer moved along the road while listening to the music from the shops and kicking a stone he found in his way.
“How are the widows, Mr. Homer?” someone asked.
“They’re fine.”
On looking at the shop windows, Homer saw a few posters of his lectures in the library. People loved him in a city where he could make his money amidst the problems. Lost in his thoughts, he found Miguel wiping the counters.
“I’ve met a woman,” Homer said.
“You always do.”
“I lost her by your house.”
Homer told him all about the beauty he had seen, a ghost from another age, tempting him with her charms before disappearing somewhere.
“She’s called Lola and works in a shop,” Miguel said.
“How do you know?” Homer asked.
“It must be her, Mr. Homer.” Miguel said.
Homer thought that Lola looked better than a duchess even if she dressed in rags. He planned to meet her that evening, after Miguel told him where she worked by the market.
“Maria is a nice girl,” Miguel said. “You should take her to the cinema.”
Homer chewed coca leaves, indifferent to his problems. He had to appear cool in front of the most beautiful woman in the city but how could he see Lola and look after his trucks at the same time? The driver could waste the petrol or he might even bring his girlfriend to the journey.
“Lola lives with her mother,” Miguel said.
“That’s interesting,” Homer said.
“Why?”
“She doesn’t have a husband.”
Homer imagined making love to her before the end of the world. He waited for the girl that evening instead of counting his money in El Baratillo, or looking after his ships in the port. Then she appeared, looking as beautiful as ever.
“You look like a million pesos,” Homer said.
He didn’t feel well because he had masturbated the day before or the thought of a million pesos. The two things made him as pale as an anaemic flower, but any woman would fall in love with his money.
“Can I walk you home?” he asked.
He had to be strong in front of the most beautiful girl in town, while her teats trembled with her breath.
“I work hard to pay my debts,” Lola said.
“I’m also poor.”
It had to be love at first sight like they said in the soap operas. As she stopped by a little house with a red door, he expected to meet some of the members of her family.
“My mother can’t see you,” she said.
“Why?” he asked.
“She’s very strict.”
Homer loved this woman more than anything in his life in spite all the problems.
“I must go,” she said.
“Can I see you tomorrow?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” she said.
On opening the door, she disappeared inside the house, leaving Homer alone with his pain. A husband could be waiting for her amidst the shadows, where he would love her all night. Homer couldn’t trust women anymore.
“Two and two are seven,” he muttered to himself.
The clouds parted, showing him a sky full of stars, the Milky Way making its way across space where the future waited.


Lola’s life
Homer waited for Lola by the market the next day, even if he didn’t look after his business. He offered her a red rose from someone’s garden as she moved down the street.
“Thank you,” she said, her breasts trembling under her blouse.
“Can I take you home?” he asked.
He felt her scent, carried by the breeze towards his soul, while feeling jealous of all the attention she got from the men. On stopping in front of her house, he waited for her to send him away.
“I’ll introduce you to mother,” she said.
“She didn’t want to see me last night.”
“It’s all right now.”
Homer imagined Lola’s mother as a monster guarding her daughter against all evil but a nice woman opened the door. She had Lola’s dark eyes and brown hair.
“I have seen your pictures in the papers,” she said.
“Mother has followed your campaign of love.”
Homer sat next to Lola in the sitting room, while the woman prepared dinner in the kitchen. She let him hold her hands, her skirt riding up her legs and showing her hips.
“Mother might come in,” she said.
“She’s cooking the dinner.”
Homer wondered how he could get her without her mother noticing the erection lifting his trousers.
“I like you,” he said.
“I know.”
“Can I touch your legs?”
Homer caressed her thighs but she remained quiet. He let his monster out of his trousers, expecting her to be angry or anything else like that.
“Would you like to suck it?” he asked.
She held it with trembling fingers, as he inserted his fingers in her vagina.
“Do you like it?” he asked.
“Aaaa..,” she said.
He pushed his monster inside her many times until her body trembled under the orgasm. As he zipped up his trousers and rearranged his clothes, she erased her sins with a towel her mother must have left by the sofa. Then she saw hundreds of tiny animals crawling in his hair.
“I must have caught them in the widow’s houses,” Homer said.
“They are horrible,” Lola said.
He thought she made a fuss about nothing. His business in the slums had left him full of money and lice.
“I’ll get some poison tomorrow,” he said.
“You must do it today,” she said.
He nodded. “It’s fine.”
Lola talked about her job, where they didn’t pay her well even if she worked long hours, as her mother appeared with two glasses of aguardiente on a tray. She showed him some of her teats, while putting the glasses on the table.
“My daughter wants to marry a rich man,” she said.
“Mother,” Lola said.
“We need the money,” the woman said.
She told him all about their life before Lola’s father had died of a heart attack. It must have been an exciting time because she cried.
“Mother thinks our destiny is written somewhere,” Lola said.
Homer shrugged. “I don’t understand.”
The woman showed him some papers she kept in a draw, with diagrams of the life line travelling through time. It had to do with the universe.
“We have lived before,” she said.
“I see,” Homer said.
“Mum knows about it,” Lola said.
“Did you know I would come here today?” he asked.
The woman shrugged. “Of course I did.”
Putting the cards face down on the table, she asked Homer to take one of them. As he showed her his card, she frowned.
“Darkness surrounds your soul,” she said.
“I was born during a solar eclipse.”
She smiled. “That explains everything.”
The electricity went off and Homer held Lola’s hand as everyone screamed. Her mother must have planned the whole thing to scare him to death or she wanted his money.
“Did we pay the bill?” Lola asked.
“I never forget,” the woman said.
As the light of a candle illuminated the room, Homer saw their faces amidst the darkness of the world. They had to thank the electrical plant for the chaos it caused when the energy went off sometimes.
“This is you first life cycle,” the woman said.
“What does it