fuente
Once upon a time recently (in 2016, really), a boy of about 18 years old is sitting on the edge of the terrace of one of the tallest buildings in a city somewhere in the world. With a notebook resting on his legs and with pencil in hand, a rather curious phrase: << And the world in which we live is really the fictional one? >> He looked at the sky and contemplated the different tonalities reflected in it. It was almost 6:00 in the afternoon. The noise of the city was increasingly noticeable and more stressful. The boy let out a sigh and the short sound emitted by his phone vibrating at his side cut off his inspiration in one fell swoop.
- Where are you, Benjamin? - His mother sounded worried, probably because until two weeks ago his son did not leave his room, however a moment later he did not arrive home until after 7:30 p.m.
-Mother, sorry, I was late ... I got distracted ...
-Again? - interrupted his mother .-. How much can you be distracting lately?
<< thoughts >> Benjamín said to himself.
-I'm sorry ...- a responder limited himself.-. Give me thirty minutes and I get home.
"Be careful when you return and please do not get distracted!" These last words resounded and with them the call ended.
The next time he approached, it was with the steps that were going to be taken to reach his mother.
When he had entered a house he just shouted "I've arrived!" and then running to his room, throwing his stomach down on his bed and devote himself to cleanse his soul and body, devote himself to mourn.