Autor:    Pedro Miguel Silva Llorente

WHAT NEVER WAS

The greedy look of her mother makes her sweat.

She, stunned, sad, listens to the conversation between her parents and her boss.

Her brother serves them a drink.

They enjoy.

It is afternoon, it smells like wet earth. The breeze brings with it whispers from the street.

The young woman, in love, behind the glass of the window, observes large windmills.

She rolls, drifting stealthily. She smiles.

—Daughter, could you serve the food.

—Of course, mother, it`s a pleasure.

The night arrives.

For dessert, an apple.

Now she sleeps soundly.