A Reprieve
Gian Carlo Velasco
I
The sun bleeds over the city skyline,
its dying light tinting the yacht-filled bay. Through the wrought-iron window
of the restaurant, you watch a parade of humanity pass you by. Half-naked
streetchildren noisily dive into the waves to fish out leftovers to feed their
dogs. Beneath the coconut trees lined up in the avenue rest lovers clad in
slippers and jerseys, exchanging jokes while groping each other’s crotch on the
sly. White-haired businessmen and government officials rush to the ceramic
lobby of a hotel, their leather portfolios swinging in their hands. The
coffee-stained manuscript of your novel is spread before you. On its front page
are placed the words The Conspiracy by
Matiás Asuncion. After paying the bill, you glance at your watch and board
a grey taxi.