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The woman attracts a ladybug near her. The insect lands and immediately closes its wings. Then it stays paralyzed, as though it were waiting for a flying companion. It has small black dots, and tickles her skin when it moves.
It is summer and she is wearing a green moss skirt and a red shirt. To an outsider they seem like winter clothes, but since she sits in the shade, at a table outside, they fit the surroundings. She reads the classifieds and fantasizes about finding a companion.
The next day, she decides to renovate the bedroom. She is tired of the mattress thrown on the floor. She puts on a happy dress, sandals, some bijoux, and leaves the house. She feels Brazilian. She has a tanned body, brown hair, and a big smile.
She decides to buy a new bed. At the store, she mentions that she likes to sleep alone and surprises herself by saying it. The seller smiles at her but doesn’t say anything. She arrives home and waits for the bed. She has a new sensation, of solitude.
The first night in the new bed is comfortable. She doesn’t know exactly what she wants. Her thoughts are in constant search. She learns how to live on her own, existing in her own company. At first she finds it difficult, fears that everyone is observing her. With time, she gets used to it, and even feels guilty for being able to be happy alone.
She is not accustomed to a life of privileges.
She leaves home with the sensation that she needs to pay for her happiness, as though she owed something to the world. The desire to find some company, someone like her, disappears. Casually, she meets people, men and women.
She falls in love with them all but doesn’t stay with anyone. The ladybug returns to her arm and fills her heart with her presence.
Story published in Hirschworth.