Por @latino.romano

Se miraban de tanto en tanto, procurando no distraerse de sus propios asuntos. Cada uno con la cabeza clavada en su propio plato de avena.

Así transcurrían los minutos, eternos y fastidiosos, sin cruzar palabra alguna mientras desayunaban. Los golpes de las cucharas contra el fondo del plato de vidrio eran lo único que rompía el silencio; y un eventual claxon que sonaba afuera en la calle.

Los niños parecían soldados bajo castigo sentados en sus sillas. Con caras largas se llevaban lentamente la avena a la boca, pero sin detenerse, pues sabían que una larga lista de regaños les esperaban si no acababan todo su alimento.

El teléfono sonó varias veces. La mujer se levantó con gesto de fastidio para contestar la llamada. El esposo no se inmutó de manera alguna, sin perturbarse continuo comiendo como si nada ocurriera a su alrededor.

—¿Sí? —contestó sin muchas ganas la mujer.

—¡Ajá!… Uhmmm… bueno… —agregó haciendo pausas y finalmente dijo:— Le avisaré.

Se sentó a la mesa y continuó su faena sin mostrar el más mínimo cambio en sus sentimientos. Su esposo la miró brevemente sin pronunciar palabra, raspando el fondo del plato con su cuchara. Un par de minutos después le espetó crudamente:

—Era tu hermana, dijo que tu madre al fin murió.

El hombre se quedó mirando su plato, inmóvil al escuchar esa noticia, luego se levantó, se sirvió más avena, se sentó de nuevo y dijo a su mujer:

—Pero mi madre ya había muerto el año pasado.

—Entonces era número equivocado —señaló la mujer sin preocuparse.


 

Esta invitación es solo para 100 personas, no pierdas la tuya: https://discord.gg/jCS6kZ4


 

By @latino.romano

They looked at each other from time to time, trying not to distract themselves from their own affairs. Each one with his head nailed to his own plate of oatmeal.

So the minutes passed, eternal and annoying, without crossing a word while they had breakfast. The blows of the spoons against the bottom of the glass plate were the only thing that broke the silence; and an eventual horn that sounded outside in the street.

The children looked like soldiers under punishment sitting on their chairs. With long faces they slowly put the oatmeal in their mouths, but without stopping, for they knew that a long list of reprimands awaited them if they did not finish all their food.

The telephone rang several times. The woman stood up with a gesture of annoyance to answer the call. The husband did not immute in any way, without disturbing himself by continuing to eat as if nothing was happening around him.

-Yes? -The woman replied unwillingly.

-Aha! Uhmmm… well…” she added, pausing and finally said: “I’ll let you know.

He sat down at the table and continued his work without showing the slightest change in his feelings. Her husband looked at her briefly without saying a word, scraping the bottom of the plate with his spoon. A couple of minutes later she spat at him crudely:

-She was your sister, she said that your mother finally died.

The man stared at his plate, motionless at the news, then got up, poured more oatmeal, sat down again and said to his wife:

-But my mother had already died last year.

-Then it was the wrong number,” said the woman without worrying.


 

 

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