I was just looking at the gray sky and little by little my breath was going away.. then the whistle.. I would soon have company next to my bed for three nights and four days.

The bedside table would be dressed in white again, with medicines and would wear my Miami pajamas next to my blue robe, although it was a horrible heat I loved to put it on, for the few times allowed to stand.. in the bathroom for example.

But it wasn't that it will come from the time of the gray sky to one's bed, no.. before I had come in silence trying to get no one to hear the whistle, already in the evening after dinner I was trying to forget that I couldn't breathe well.. to the edge of midnight I couldn't hold it anymore and just by standing next to my mother.. she knew, run to the middle of the night. clinic, a puncture and that's it.

Life smiled at me again, special juices, favorite meals, not classes and a lot of TV.. only the nurse would be sitting next to me 24 hours for three nights and four days.

The years went by, the asthma dick calms him with beers, the wine the smoke, the laughter, it was clear, in the end I would solve it.

One day the fun was 3,000 meters above sea level, a terrible cold and dry dunky war between friends, was so crude the weather that there was no bath, in that short coexistence the smell of Poo suffocated me, I had to leave the excursion and go down where I could breathe.

A slow return through stone roads and small rivers, in the company of my friend Lucho, supportive shoulder to shoulder on the journey of return. In our steps “zombie” mode we step on a plastic wallet, ugly, ignore it, my partner not so much, I take it easy and opened it uneagerly

Tickets.. “one for you, one for me”, the dick became laughing and what took us to reach our 5-hour destination was just one.. we paid the time.

The smell of poop was transformed into the smell of new clothes, delicious food and first-class hotel, we decided a few more days of paradise by the sea and watching the Paramo in the distance we thought the two of us..

Long live the shit. this is Life!

Short stories for quarantine: asthma