Destination
That morning, while washing his face, the man discovered that the lines on the palms of his hands had disappeared.
“How strange,” he said to himself. And he continued washing up. He brushed his teeth, combed his hair, and looked down at his hands again. But nothing had changed: they were completely smooth.
“Have I run out of time?” he said with a nervous smile. The man glanced at the wall clock and realized he didn’t have much time left.
He went to the kitchen and made coffee with toast. After breakfast, he lit a cigarette and smoked it slowly, savoring every puff. He drank a small glass of brandy from Jerez. He put on his best suit, applied cologne, and stood for a long time in front of the mirror, inspecting every detail.
“What a nice day,” he thought as he stepped out onto the street. He began walking aimlessly. He wasn’t going anywhere.
Ezequiel Tambornini
