how quickly he found out that the first kiss on the mouth would be something as remote as the distance between the earth and the sun, their nakedness and his screwing her now light-years away. And as far as the hand goes, ah … During the dance he had already touched it, as well as her waist, and her hair with his cheek: a fleet and pleasing accident; but such modesty (now!) all in one burst … A courtship that delays in finding the license enchantment grants can transition with passion to the good parts. Restraint as nothing less than a circle swirling with deep water—right? Restraint: for months, years, a route that must go backward in order to go forward, and, phew! there came a break—an overdose of silence is risky—: Renata spoke about her father’s death; the sudden change in the lives of two women who weren’t used to earning their keep. She had to admit that the stationery store was not generating the desired benefits; the calculations had not been optimally carried out. A delicious (worthwhile) nut was being cracked open, with barely any cracklings of affection and trust that would allow Renata to boast about the hustle and bustle of that business challenge. The unexpected: biweekly trips to Monclova: the carriages, the sweats, endless hassles, brutal even down to the most unexpected details. Demetrio, as it were, played the part of the moved listener: so still he barely blinked as he heard a complaint that after reaching out suddenly contracted into a single idea: branches in one continuous curve: all that verbiage—out of necessity, and if not—by a beauty who kept her head bowed and began to cry—why? could it be from sudden joy … and if not, what? A courtship should be cheerful! or rather: future cheer; future long and soft kisses: a great subject for the study of sensations, and with the sudden release of the lips—cheerfulness at last! right? or not? In their heads—there?! Ipso her sweetheart asked: Why are you crying? and mechanically Renata answered: Sometimes I’m quite a crybaby. You’ll soon get to know me … I ask only that when you see me like this you don’t pay any attention to me; though where to look and what to say at that moment that would be appropriate: Demetrio tried. The surroundings themselves seemed discrepant: the trees in the plaza: witnesses, just like the little people in the distance: brute curiosity scattered about, which the suitor found intriguing, even more so upon seeing a young boy (head slightly bowed) just leaving the stationery store. Would he come straight over to the bench? It would seem so, because as soon as he touched Renata’s arm, he practically issued an order: Your mother says you should go home. Renata jumped up as if spring loaded: Good-bye, Demetrio. Write soon. The end. So had passed one hour of sacred love. Not even time for her to ask him: When will you return? and for him to answer: In a year. Nothing, not even an encouraging finale, a hope-infused warmth. Nothing, then, except the parting of a sweetheart who had wagered her paltry pleasure on the clock. One hour … how dear. A disappearance that inspired growing desire. Nothing fascinating and unforgettable, or maybe a little, but—insipid? As he walked away her sweetheart thought about the three days it would take him to get back to Oaxaca. He thought of the hour—annual?—supreme and pale, a bobble melting into the distance. He thought about the stack of circumstances that would arise throughout the year, and to top it off, he had to find a nook in his brain for the idea that the sacred was unattainable. God was in a different sphere—likewise, true love, as was everything truly paradisiacal. Sex, on the other hand, a caprice. Ease at the expense of false loving … Pretense-sex, see-through-sex … But worthwhile love was nothing more than the dark and daring work of rodents, restraint, struggle—a nuisance or courage? Upon his arrival at his aunt Zulema’s house, the strange suitor cut loose. He could hardly believe what he had just experienced. The aunt—no need to guess—made herself comfortable: listening with lively astonishment … Yes! with a sarcastic look on her face she would listen to a story imbued with exasperation, and nothing he came up with could unhinge her psyche; a psyche quite seasoned in such scabrous affairs; an old maid’s psyche that surely did not reel in anticipation