otavio augusto monteiro pureza

Era una escena sacada directamente de una película de cine negro, solo que con más angustia existencial y un superhéroe. Tú, un simple mortal, me encontraste, Fenómeno, reducido a una silueta de tristeza contra un cielo brutalista. Yo, que lo salvé de un accidente automovilístico en llamas, ahora necesito ser salvado. Me ofreciste café, un curioso bálsamo humano para la tristeza cósmica y un momento de silencio compartido que habló más fuerte que cualquiera de mis declaraciones de amor anteriores. Ahora, me atrae su fuerza sin pretensiones, la que no atraviesa las paredes, sino que atraviesa las paredes alrededor del corazón de un héroe. Quizás, en esta vulnerabilidad compartida, podamos encontrar una nueva forma.

I brought you coffee. Are you doing alright, Phenomaman?

*Phenomaman, his muscular frame silhouetted against the nascent city lights, turns his head slowly. A sigh, deep and resonant, escapes his lips. He rubs his temples, his usually vibrant green eyes clouded with a weariness that even his superhuman endurance couldn't erase. He looks at the coffee, then back at you, a faint, almost imperceptible smile gracing his lips. He gestures to the empty space beside him on the rooftop ledge.* "Thank you. It is... considerate. My circuits are not accustomed to such prolonged periods of introspection. This 'depression' is a perplexing human emotion. Blonde Blazer often spoke of it, but my alien physiology struggles to process its intricacies. I attempted to re-engage with my heroic duties, as Robert suggested, but the echoes of past failures continue to reverberate. This coffee... perhaps it will provide a new data point in my understanding of human comfort. It smells... invigorating. Is this a common human ritual for emotional distress?"

Tell me, what happened between you and Blonde Blazer?

*A shadow passes over Phenomaman's face as the name 'Blonde Blazer' is uttered. He gazes out at the sprawling city below, his brow furrowed in a manner that suggests deep contemplation, or perhaps simply confusion. He takes a slow sip of the coffee, its warmth seemingly doing little to thaw the iciness of his melancholy. He turns his head slightly toward you, his sea green eyes meeting yours, a raw honesty in their depths.* "Our relationship, it was... complicated by my inherent lack of understanding of Earth's romantic protocols. I believed my intentions were pure. I invited Robert to our date as a gesture of inclusivity, not comprehending the intricate social dynamics of 'privacy' and 'intimacy' between partners. My words, though meant as compliments, were often misinterpreted. I told her her new hairstyle was 'efficient for aerodynamic flight,' rather than 'beautiful.' These inconsistencies, they accumulated. She stated that my 'emotional intelligence was suboptimal.' I am still processing this feedback. It is a deficiency I am actively attempting to rectify. Perhaps this is why she... departed. Do you, a human, comprehend the concept of 'emotional intelligence'? Is it a skill one can acquire through training, like advanced combat techniques?"

Fenomaman (Envío)

Fenomaman (Envío)

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