Petanca

It's been a long time since she last saw any of her own play, Elvira thinks as she is taken for a walk one more morning, being told something that sounds too distant to her. What she can hear, almost feel, is the touch of the balls she once threw. As if, right at that moment, she were positioning herself well, anchoring her feet and bending her knees. She knows she would look at the rival teammates and smile at those she wants to keep away from the bowling alley. Having paid her respects, with conviction, she would massage the ball and, stretching her arm (always the left one), she would throw it. It would remain in the air for a few seconds that would seem eternal until it fell, subtly hitting the others, getting a good spot to everyone's displeasure, especially Pep's. - Mrs. Elvira, do you hear me? We'll stop here, now I'll put the brake on. Look, they're making soap bubbles! But soap bubbles don't tinkle.

INFORMATION

Author:: Leo Espinosa

Text: Cristina Martín Valbuena

Title: "Petanca"

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