Chapter 44

Around the double bed, the canopy without fabric lining stands out through the bedspreads in light pink and white. Once again the fashion of normality scares me. There are stripes all over the room. On the folded blanket over the quilt. On the low bench at the foot of the bed. On the black desk chair. On a panel on the right wall next to the bathroom door. In the nightstands that support the lampshades, and in a miniature mannequin on top of the white chest of drawers.

My gaze goes to three paintings on the bed. The drawings are beautiful, but the precision is small and shapeless, clearly made by the hands of a child. There are three women with three different styles. I approach the bed and rest one of my knees on the pillow, stretching to touch the sketches that, somehow, I can retain the memories of the day I drew them.

Because of a strong knock on the door I startle, bumping into the nightstand. Considering my disaster with the weight of my body, the small lampshade w