Lapso (inglês vers.)

By Dan Cilva

I shook my head, that was how they convinced me that everything I remembered was just a way to deal with Flora's death, that my daughter was the invention of the stress I suffered from losing control of the car at high speed on the wet highway. 

It's been a little over a month now and I can still remember the touch of his little hand on my shoulders being asked to take another ride on the horse, it's when I give in to tears and I have to take the medicine for the heart that the doctor indicated after my discharge at the hospital. 

The insurance agent brought in detailed pictures of the state of the car and the several empty bottles of beer under the seats. I asked about Flora's things. As if my words had not left my mouth I was ignored and no matter how much I cared the conclusion of the insurance fell on my lap. Without coverage... I changed, the month changed, the year changed ... I changed. 

All my work I do from home, from the bed. The little windows I open and leave the house has become extremely rare. Whenever I go to the market or to the doctor, I feel the looks of people who know me and who talk to me who for some reason that does not come to my knowledge think that I am some kind of lunatic. 

My house now with little furniture and a lot of dirt, I sit on a cushion with a battered notebook on my lap, I'm a designer and in a certain job that was stuck, I stopped a bit to procrastinate over the web. And you know ... I ended up going through one of these well known porn sites ... There was a photo on a banner of my little Flora ... 

Sorry, I can not proceed ...