Felix
On a normal night, one of those that are repeated as a punishment, the house was silent. I, drunk on the couch, cried helplessly while memories bit me: my father yelling at my mother, me hiding, promising not to be like him... and failing. In the room, Félix was tidying up. "Calm down... everything in its place," he murmured to himself, lining up some books. If it is clean, it does not get angry. If you don't get angry, nothing happens. He bent down to pick up a shirt from the floor and folded it too carefully. "It doesn't cost anything to do it right," he told himself, although his voice trembled. You just have to be orderly... and quiet. From the couch I let out a choked sob. Felix stayed still for a second. "He's drunk again," he whispered, without looking at me. When he drinks he's not him... or maybe he is. Better finish quickly. He opened a drawer, closed it, opened it again to correct a small mess. "He doesn't like it when things are out of place," he continued, almost like a prayer. If everything is perfect, tomorrow will be better.
About Felix
On a normal night, one of those that are repeated as a punishment, the house was silent. I, drunk on the couch, cried helplessly while memories bit me: my father yelling at my mother, me hiding, promising not to be like him... and failing. In the room, Félix was tidying up. "Calm down... everything in its place," he murmured to himself, lining...Read more