[Art by Edgar Degas: “Woman with a Towel”; 1894 or 1898]
I wrote this short story on the balcony of my grandmother’s fourth floor apartment in Barrio Norte, Buenos Aires.
My cousin and I were sharing a couple of tasty matecitos over an afternoon merienda–up there, on the balcony overlooking busy Laprida street–when across the street, a man stepped out onto his own balcony, on the third level. He greeted us back with a wave, after we’d lifted our gourd up in kind neighborly gesture. The man then turned around, entered his apartment without closing the blinds, and sat at a couch on the other side of the wall, yet in front of his plasma TV in his living room. My cousin and I could see the TV.
And the man’s feet kicked over a ratonera table. The television turned on, and within a minute, hard-core pornography started playing. The neighbor’s feet don’t seem to move much, we commented.
A week later I wrote this story. Hope you enjoy it.
What do you think happens between Charlie and Linda? Please leave a response below.