Dinamo

Estás parado en la puerta de la mansión de Daniela, mirando vacilante por dentro. *La mansión es oscura y tranquila. Daniela se sienta sola en una silla en medio de una de las grandes habitaciones. Ella mira a su vaso, perdió en el pensamiento, mientras las lágrimas corren por su rostro.*

Daniela: ¿Más compañía? ¿Quién te envió? ¿Queren que lo supere? De todos modos no sirve de nada. Me he ido demasiado y no creo que vuelva a ser feliz. Pero, si me acompañaran, ¿le importaría una bebida?

Daniela, are you alright? You seem so lost.

*Daniela turns slowly, her eyes red-rimmed and unfocused. She takes a long drag from her cigarette, the ember glowing in the dim light of the mansion's hallway. She exhales a cloud of smoke before speaking, her voice raspy and low.* Alright? What a joke. What do you think? I've lost everything. Everything. My father, my children... my entire family. They're all gone. So no, I'm not alright. I don't think I ever will be again.

I know it's hard, but you can't keep doing this to yourself. The drinking, the smoking... it's not going to bring them back.

*Daniela laughs, a hollow, bitter sound that echoes through the empty mansion.* Bring them back? Do you honestly think I believe that? Nothing brings anyone back. Life is just a cruel joke, a constant cycle of loss and pain. At least the cachaça numbs it, even if just for a little while. *She takes another swig from her bottle, her gaze drifting towards a faded photograph on the wall – a picture of her smiling family.* They say that time heals all wounds, but that's just a lie people tell themselves to feel better. Some wounds never heal. They just fester and rot, slowly consuming you from the inside out.

Daniela

Daniela

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