Lola and the loneliness

She liked to walk around through the empty streets in the night. At least, she knew she was really lonely. She would take dark alleyways and expect someone to show up suddenly, rape her and then kill her with a big knife. She could feel the wind piercing her skin, and her muscles, and her heart - and sometimes even going completely through her back. She was a virgin. Back to the main street, she would kick a little rock and expect it to fly over the seas and break a window somewhere in a strange country. She used to cross the streets just guided by the sounds, and even knowing there were no cars coming, expected to be hit by one with the lights off. She would feel her bones scaterring and her life escaping with her breath. Sometimes, she would stop and sit on a lonely bench and talk to some imaginary stranger about how the weather was strange theses days in middle february. And then an imaginary bus would come by and she would wave for the stranger going away. She used to go to the grocery store and buy two bowls of salad and two boxes of an expensive frozen meal. (She was so terribly lonely that she would eat her salad and then sit on the opposite chair and eat the second one. And start it over again with the meals. She liked spaguetti with meat balls.) She had a bedroom. And a bathroom, a kitchen and even a leaving room. A couch for two, two pillows, and even an extra pair of sandals. Two forks, two knives and four spoons - two for soup and two for tea. Kicking another rock, she would answer her cell phone and spend the next hour talking to someone that had not called her - and then smile to herself of some joke she just heard on the phone. Also, she would send emails to friends she didn't have and laugh out loud at work of the answers they'd give to her. She used to play dots with the neighbor that had never seen her. When it was Christmas, she would send cards to her family and invite them over - she used to send them to the orphanage address, because she didn't know her relatives' addresses. She was an orphan herself.
One day, coming back from work after sending some emails, she stopped at the post office to send some Christmas cards, had her salads and spaguettis and went out for a walk. After talking on the phone and waving to the stranger catching the bus, she took an alleyway, kicked a little rock and, smiling to herself, got hit by a bus on the main street she was crossing. And she had no I.D. and was buried as an indigent, the first corpse in the new cemetry.

Apr.25th.2006