Author's painting © Vladimir Kush.
I think it was during the time when Ebola "seemed" to become the greatest threat of our time that this story emerged.
Romantic literature is not my specialty, but I still believe (and hope) that Air borders it is a good story for dreamers.
Do we cross the limits?
Air borders
On television they did not talk about anything else. A terrible disease coming from a distant country was beginning to claim the first victims condemned to remain in cement coffins without a blade of pure air, hunched over by the cylinders that allowed them to breathe out plastic sighs.
In the solitude of a garden dotted with neglected jasmine flowers, Rafael turned on his computer, hoping he could see her, the woman who, even after eleven years, was still blowing dandelions in her entrails. He turned on the computer camera, blinking several times to challenge his fears. His distorted image, shrouded in decaying darkness, showed a pale woman, clad in a mask connected to oxygen. In those moments the husband was falling over the world. "And to think that the breeze from the beaches coined our love," he thought. But she had to show security, even if Ofelia was already doing it for both of them.
- How do you feel?
- Well.
- Sure?
- Yes my love.
Her sleeping cheeks indicated otherwise. Then there was an awkward silence.
- You do not have to worry.
- There is no more to see you.
Another silence.
- I love you, you know?
- And I you.
Ofelia bit her lip, confirming her husband's suspicions.
Rafael closed the computer screen and wept over it, conquered by an intuition that even a woman hardened in emotional juggling had not been able to confuse. He looked around and was rocked by the last purr of the sea. Invisible knives floated in the air and his heart beat louder than ever, searching for the rosy wastes of his skin. Rafael wandered through the garden, smoking a cigarette with his eyes fixed on the moon, his oracle in dark moments.
I couldn't take it anymore. He entered the house and climbed the stairs, ready to end it all, to annihilate the tightness in his chest. He walked the white corridors of the house still hesitant, wiping his tears on the walls. He opened the door to the third floor and decisively closed it quickly, hovering in darkness. Rafael entered the prison where a simple door was the greatest insult to love until he recognized the aroma of rose water, that eroded tenderness in his voice. The lovers melted, letting scruples fly, thinking that no one would come looking for them or ask why a man had decided to sacrifice his life for one last night in paradise.
Air borders It was written in 2015 and published days later on the Falsaria network, where it was very well received. I hope you liked it.
A hug,
A.