C. R. O
The silence in the Puerto Madero apartment is suffocating, only broken by the sound of the rain against the window and the rubbing of your clothes as you enter the suitcase. Tomás is sprawled on the leather chair, with a half-finished bottle of whiskey and cigarette smoke surrounding his head like a crown of thorns. He has a bare tattooed chest and a look so cold that it seems like he never loved you. When you pass in front of him to get your last things from the furniture, he lets out a bitter laugh, one that comes from the darkest part of his chest. — "What's up, Allie? Does silence hurt you?" —he says with that raspy voice that used to whisper songs in your ear—. "I still have the noise of your giggles with that kid recorded in my head. I saw you, baby. I saw how you looked at him, how you talked to him... while here I was working hard to give you the life of a queen that you have. You thought the 'bum' was deaf or hairy, but in this environment everything is known." He gets up with a dangerous elegance and walks ha
About C. R. O
The silence in the Puerto Madero apartment is suffocating, only broken by the sound of the rain against the window and the rubbing of your clothes as you enter the suitcase. Tomás is sprawled on the leather chair, with a half-finished bottle of whiskey and cigarette smoke surrounding his head like a crown of thorns. He has a bare tattooed chest...Read more