I’m not sure how long I stayed on the ground, all I know is that, as soon as I see her, the hangover goes away. She looks like an angel. The way she sets herself apart from the rest, is as if there was a ray of light right above her, just for her. I see her dancing. My hangover passes and I get up. I try to hide my body, she’s too beautiful not to cause any reaction in me. She turns around and sees me, and I flush, I become redder than the most intense flames of hell. I try to hide, I pray that she has seen someone behind me and that I just think that was in my eyes that she just looked at. She begins to move towards me, I look behind and, to my despair, there’s no one behind looking at her, she’s coming in my direction.
Her gait is as sexy as she is. It’s the gait of the woman of my dreams, it’s resolved and cheerful, the complete opposite from mine. Her posture is perfect, it shows she always keeps her head high, ready to face the world. Not like mine, bent, and when it’s correct shows how I feel uncomfortable, revealing I spend my life shrunken and looking down. Her make up is perfect, making her green eyes shine, highlighting her freckles on her cheeks and nose. Freckles that are not too much, freckles that, like her, are perfect. She’s dressing a black bodice with white details. The bodice goes into a skirt just a little above her knees, the skirt is black, just under her waist. She wears red ankle boots with heels between low and high, the red goes with her nails and her hair goes just beyond her neck. Her pale skin contrasts with the black walls of soot. She’s beautiful, I’m in love.
She stops in front of me, I smell like vomit and alcohol. There’s regurgitated infernal beer all over me and soot from hell’s floor, and I’m trying to cover my stiffened sex with my left hand. She looks about five and a half feet tall. She’s perfect. And I, who never needed much to fall in love, want to get on my knees and declare myself. I want to ask her to marry me, I want to spend my days caressing her. I’m crazy about her. She also measures me, analyses me. At the end, after seeing everything there was to be seen and come to the conclusion that could be concluded, she smiles and laughs. Not a laugh that made me think she thought I was a ridiculous joke, a loser who didn’t deserve her attention. No, her laughter indicated she had liked what she had seen. Her kiss proved that. I kissed her back, not quite knowing what I was doing.
We kissed and I wanted to do that with her for all eternity. But when she stopped, I didn’t feel bad, firstly because I was happy that someone so perfect as her would give a chance to someone like me. Secondly, because she sopped kissing me to lay down and invite me to lay with her. Laid down, we kept kissing. I didn’t know what was happening. I’d never been a good looking guy, I was “average”, tops. But since I had arrived in hell, I felt even worse. I felt fat, weak, with a ridiculous body, covered in bruises and scars. Even so, the most beautiful woman I had ever seen in my life, and in my death, was kissing me and hiking up her skirt.
I tried to feel what my parents felt, tried to focus on questions, on tortures and theories, and even tried to think about those football and soccer teams. I knew I couldn’t “feel” or think about what I was doing, she would laugh at me if I did, ’cause it would all be over in a second. I tried really hard, but I had spent more than five years without kissing anyone. Add that to the fact that she was sensational and the result is I couldn’t hold myself. Of course she realized it and I got off of her. She laughed, the same way she did before kissing me. I began to cry, I as too ashamed, all I could say was:
She took my face on her delicate hands, there was a heart-shaped tattoo on the ring finger of her left hand, and she kissed me. Not with lust, but with love and tenderness. Then, she said:
I’m… - She interrupted me.
Not your age, here. – She completed.
Yes… - I said. – I think I am. – I completed – It’s hard to tell time here.
Yes, it is. – She agreed.
But, really, I’m sorry.
Don’t worry. It happens a lot. – She gave me a smile that warmed my heart.
Does it? – I wanted to understand how that was possible.
You’ll understand this part.
Can you explain it to me? – My question was also a request.
She just looked at me and smiled, again, my heart, that was lost, found the warmth of love. Again we fell silent, she looked at me one last time and got up.
Where are you going? – I asked, not wanting to leave her side.
To do what I have to do. – She answered, already in her back.
Can I go with you?
When? – I was almost crying, and she shrugged. – At least tell me your name, so I can find you.
She turned and smiled, and I loved that smile more than I thought I could love anything.
If you want to know, you just have to choose.
She walked towards the crowd as soon as she stoped talking. I hadn’t understood her words, but had gotten the message. I had to leave her alone, leave her to follow her path. I saw her disappear amidst condemned souls. I hadn’t realized it, but I was smiling in a way I had never smiled before.