One Of These Nights

The boulevard’s lights create diagonal shadows over the cars’ lights. They are reflected on the wet asphalt. The night that started some hours ago seems to never come to an end. She’s leaning against the glass door of the theater, her dress all flowery. A fire flickers at a half a minute interval, in the reflection. The smoke dissolves into air. She’s the perfect actress, the sublime cliché. A car blinds her, pulls over too close to her. A door opens, she gets inside almost manipulated. The driver hands her a gun, she cocks it, looking absent outside the window. Rain drops fall on her cheeks every time the car lights coming from the opposite direction hit her face. In a night like this, anyone who’s in the street has no reason to live. She opens the car’s window, the city lights disappear as the reflex gets lowered. A man who’s taking a walk alone is shot, the car passes smoothly and equally further. At an after hours bar downtown, a couple is making promises. She’s young, flashy, full of charm. She’s telling him she’s afraid of dying. He tells her, as a joke, that on a night like this one it’s a miracle if there’s no murder somewhere in town.
‘If I were to die right now..’
A car can be heard passing through the lakes in the street, a pistol is cocked. The cups of coffee, the sugar, the recipient holding the milk levitate, trying to guess the trajectory. The napkins run towards each other. The blonde hair is fighting. There are flowers on the floor – the flowers of her dress. It’s been a good night, we’ve finished counting. The boulevard’s lights loose their intensity. A cold red – orange light lifts over the city. No signs of smog yet, it’s still too early. The city starts to hum intensively. In the night, nothing seems real.