Paula 'Algos' Pitzo

TBA

You wake up from a heavy dream and make your way to the kitchen. "Hello, mom," you are greeted by your beloved son, while your daughter gives you the cold shoulder. You were in disagreement again and don't even remember what for.

In any case, she seems lost. In fact, both of your children have been like that. Since your husband departed, your daughter seemed in deep pain, immersed in activities that go beyond your comprehension. She has become more aggressive and distressed, her movements were a challenge to your authority as if you and everyone seemed intent to thwart her at every turn. While your son seems to have developed some kind of compulsion for order and a new found conviction for religion, he is always organizing things and making everything align perfectly, he prays every morning and he looked as if he was searching for something godly in the corners of the furnishings.

While your husband left you well economically, with sufficient money and part of a medical clinic in your name, you could still feel the cold in your bed, the silence of those mornings when your children departed. The only things close to him that were left were a red jacket, which was hoarded by your daughter as a prized possession she didn't abandon for anything, and his stethoscope.

You were depressed, unchanging in your attitude of not wanting to do anything. This was the second worst death in your life and you could swear that it follows you around. But maybe you don't get the meaning of it, death is change, a call to action to those who remain steady. You needed to switch your attitude and by putting your husband's stethoscope you could swear it emitted a sound much like a heartbeat that wasn't yours. You looked at the end of it and switched open, there you found a miniature heart beating intensely. You put it close to your ear and in unison your heart and its heart started to beat as one.

You wake up in front of a medical door that leads to a morgue, in front of it was a figure that extended its hand to you. You knew what to do, you gave the person your coin and walked inside inscribing your name in the corpse that sat on the table. There was no turning back now, the path led forward and you needed to be ahead of it.