By Jess Moleman
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Extra resources for A Comet Appears
Thank you. And, —Thank you, I said. From the open window, we could see the street but the people in the street could not see us that easily. Sofia looked good for Sunday morning and her face was nice without the makeup and with her big sleep shirt and under that only panties, she looked like these girls that make coffee in the morning in commercials. She said, —I study at university as well, you know. But I didn’t know because she hadn’t told me. —I study psychology. Can I tell you why? she asked.
For sure, something important was up. Something like a Champions League final. Already everybody obviously had some alcohol in his or her blood. I looked at the paper that held the bets to put my Soles to some good use and saw we were going to see Arsenal against Barcelona. As I still felt like I had Madrilenian blood left in my veins, I wouldn’t dare to support Barça, so I put my ten Soles on Arsenal. The stakes were something like three against one to their advantage. As expected this resulted in a huge discussion about my stupidity and the odds of me winning being practically zero.
Every chance I had I revisited the place where we had met in the hope of seeing her again. That I didn’t, for so long, made me wonder if she was real, or just my conscience telling me something in a strange way. Now I met her counterpart, the girl a flip of a mental coin on the first night excluded from my sexist desires. —What a coincidence, I said, —I had not expected to find you here. —To find you here, you mean, Lola said. —That surprises me more. —How do you mean? I gave her a thought or two; maybe I could sleep with her, enjoy this young girl’s body for pleasure and as vengeance for the beauty lost in her friend.