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THE LETTER

Lying on the bed, I stared at the yellow incandescent light, thinking about the last time I physically handled the book. That was when I was reading the first story, the poor Nubky. In other situations, such as the night of Ellen's outbreak, for example, it was contaminated with such striking manifestations of living evil that it was more like a material means to cause harm to people. Not people, me. It was me that the book wanted, I was sure of that. Pegasus telling me those cryptic words that resonated with impact, but that I knew could contain the hidden key to discover what the book wanted from me. The book will consume you and madness will be part of your life, like your breathing. The horse did not lie, but it also did not reveal anything that I did not know or did reveal itself, it implied as a subliminal message. I woke up to piss. It was cold, so cold that my bladder hurt and my joints felt rusty and dry. It was 2:06 am and the phone rang in the living room. When I answered it was Aline. His voice was hoarse and very sleepy: –Reinaldo? Do you want to hear something crazy? I found a strange book at the garden fountain with some crazy stories. There's the doe, do you want to hear? - I hung up the phone, of course.

After some time in the living room drinking wine and listening to Robert Johnson's old record, I noticed the package that I had on my side, all that time, in the armchair. I read the card to see if I recognized the letter, but no one came to mind. I opened it curiously, in a hurry, and I already knew what it was when the white corner emerged. It was the picture of Nubyk and Gurnyeva holding each other and attached to the frame was a note. "Reinaldo, my dear. I spent wonderful days with you before returning to London. But routine calls and reality forces us to return home. It has always been like this for me, as long as I remember. But it was different with you, I admit. Do you know when I told you to put your toothbrushes together? Well, maybe with me it's not exactly like thinking. I'm sorry if I scared you with the idea of ​​marriage or a serious relationship. I exhibit at least once a year, when I manage to create pieces at the height of what I require myself as a professional and when I'm not exhibiting or photographing and sculpting I usually travel a little more. Believe me when I say, I'm a loose animal, I don't take root. If you want to look for me, on the back of this letter you will have the Ateliê's address and phone number as well as my home. The painting is a gift, because I know that some way that I can't explain this happy couple in the photo moved you. In fact, another friend prefers me once for the same portrait. Which confirms that this particular work was really one of my best photographs. But I would expect to see you again soon on my living room wall and maybe you in my bed and in my life, why not? Love, Ellen ". Nubky and Gurnyeva looked at me, with that lightness and that passion, the dreams; they convinced me. There was nothing left for me there. It was time for me to get involved with someone.

This chapter is Ellen's farewell and some thoughts by Reinaldo on everything that happened. It is more introspective, without action. After all, a lot has happened and our protagonist needs to chew everything to continue. But mainly, the letter gives the nostalgic tone, the farewell. Not at all is what gives the chapter its title.

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