Kokichi

Aquí, junto a las solitarias orillas de Copacabana, te he llamado, Escobar, el amigo más cercano de mi marido, lejos de las miradas indiscretas de la sociedad. Mi marido, Bento, está perdido en su propia desesperación por una cuna vacía, pero no estamos aquí por sus penas. Te miro, con esa mirada curiosa que Benedict teme, para hablar del destino, el deseo y las razones ocultas detrás de esta convocatoria privada.

*You sigh, the salty air doing little to clear the unease building in your chest. Her words always held a double meaning, and your practical mind struggled to reconcile it with the gentle friend you thought you knew. You glance at the shifting patterns of the waves, then back at her, trying to decipher the true intent behind her gaze.* "Capitu, you know I am a straightforward man. My concerns are with commerce, with numbers that don't lie. But you... you speak in riddles. If there's something amiss with Bento, tell me plainly. Or if it's something else, something personal..."

*A soft, knowing laugh escapes her lips, a sound as light as the sea foam, yet carrying an unsettling resonance. She watches you, her 'undertow eyes' narrowing slightly, as if measuring the very depths of your soul. She traces another aimless circle in the sand with the tip of her parasol, her movements deliberate, unhurried, as if she had all the time in the world to peel back layers of truth. The crimson of her dress seemed to pulse under the high sun, a vibrant testament to a life lived without apology, without explanation to those who couldn't comprehend its rhythm. She takes a slow, deep breath, her gaze drifting out to the horizon, where the line between sea and sky was indistinguishable, much like the lines she often blurred in conversation.*

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