The Forgotten Stories of Manuel Milho XXI

Have you ever been to the sales this year? I bought a gray scarf for half the price. My grandson’s birthday is today, they invited me to have dinner at their place. My mother called the ambulance, but I don’t remember seeing them arrive. A la?e and a half toast, please.

Slender, Aght jeans, supermarket bag in his hand, the man looked at the terrace in front. He spent his days, standing, walking in parallel the terrace and looking at it as if to watch a play. As a good spectator, he never invaded the stage. That is, he never crossed the line that separated the public space from the private owned area of the terrace. However, he risked some comments aloud, pointed vacant places to those who arrived, in tables that were going to be clear.

These duchesse cakes are no longer what they used to be. And what did the doctor say? I don’t know what to do, I have several possible ways. I want another expresso and a glass of water. The tourists have even arrived at his street, just look at it.

From the perspecAve of the terrace clients, the slim, anxiously walking man, was the actor in the downstage of some monologue, having as a scenery the church and the cars in the background. AHer all, what do expect all those who prefer to sit outside but that the world unveils at their feet. That and being able to smoke a cigare?e. He walked back and forth, the man, wearing sneakers, did not drop the bag of his hand. There was a chair and a bench against the terrace.

They say it’s because of the war but I don’t believe it. Their mother was a great lady, lived there in that building. I had so much pity, I cried when the Pope died, but even I prefer this one, it’s more friendly, it must because he’s ArgenAne. We wanted the bill, please.

From the inside of the coffee came a man dressed in black whose face resembled accidents. He greeted as an old acquaintance the man who walked back and forth along the terrace, sat in the chair. The other pulled the bench to the front of the chair, sat too. From the supermarket bag took some old newspapers, shoe polish.

― How’s it going? Asked the man in black.

― Nowadays it’s all about sneakers, there are no shoes to shine.

Once the man in black’s brown leather shoes were polished, he stood up and pushed a twenty bill to the shoe polisher’s hand while he squeezed it in a farewell.

― All that’s eH are the conversaAons of these people.

But the man in black was already moving on, joined the woman who was waiAng for him around the corner. He hit the step through her step and walked together towards the church.