To be read to the accompaniment of “Weeping in the Countryside,” with Lobão. Emptiness into which happiness itself disappeared. She had spent so much time in her daydreaming that she didn’t see the boy disappear into the elevator well, leaving her house and soul empty. Only with men did she experience the fleeting happiness that is the orgasm. Every orgasm is a fugitive happiness that materializes in the release of sexual fluids that flow out into emptiness. “You need to go,” she repeated to no one. And what this one said to her! A short guy, close to her ear: obscene words. She liked feeling her breasts burning in a man’s warm mouth. On one of those nights, lacking available men, she managed to come home with a lesbian (a “sandal-wearer,” she thought at the time, referring to the delicate fashion and the young woman’s beauty), but she couldn’t manage to entirely give herself to the experience. Her prey was this cycle of self-destruction she chose clothing that she considered sexy, she put on her makeup carefully, she selected accessories, she spritzed on perfume, and she drove her car to the Pelourinho or Barra or the Fish Market or bars on the shore in search of a man to alleviate, at least until sunrise, the weight of her loneliness. Every man was her prey because, since she had been abandoned by her husband, she brought them to her bed after a night out hunting. Her parents had been dead for ten years and her only sister was lost in some corner of Brazil. Yet she didn’t consider herself alone in the world because she believed in God (the sole one who remains when everyone else has gone away, even the ones she didn’t want, anyway). She always used that lie when she wanted to get rid of the previous night’s depressing prey. “My brother is about to show up,” she told the boy, who at that moment was rolling a towel around himself like a belt. The boy responded, in a disgusted manner, that his name was André, and asked right after that: what was her name? I believe he was on a bender last night too, she thought. So she asked him, “What exactly is your name?” She wanted to ask, “Who are you?” but thought it might be too offensive finally, she thought, if this man was in her house, it was because she herself had brought him there. It’s already after three o’clock.” Right after that he bared his teeth in a smile. The still unknown person opened the door-the body nude and wet-and said, “Good morning. She quickly ran to the bathroom and came across a masculine silhouette behind the box. She tasted bitterness in her mouth and heard the shower running. The sun, which entered through the wide open window, aggravated her headache. The room in disarray, two used condoms strewn on the floor.
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