Tuesday, March 30th. (The Future)

Tuesday, March 30th.

Then Hector would date some of his diary entries with the incorrect day and date (usually setting his entries a few days in advance), to see if he could predict the future. It never really worked, and when it did he had already forgotten all about his diary. He liked the image of seeing himself in the future writing about a future he already knew would happen, cheating himself like the fortune tellers sitting outside the subway station a block away from his school. He remembered seeing the same woman dressed like a gypsy on a Tuesday and a bandana and a hippie dress on Friday. Her name was Martha and she was ready to read his hand on Friday afternoon.

Martha's hippie dress revealed a pair of big tits and a cleavage to die for. When she took his hand he felt calluses and wounds that had barely healed. Her hands felt rough and shown him the signs of a life where work was hard and where money didn't come by easily: a job at factory, or perhaps a supermarket stocker.

"You're going to a place where people can't pronounce your name". Martha had a weird accent. Her grammar was impeccable but there was something strange about her pronunciation. Hector knew she was lying, her accent was as fake as some of the stories he had been writing in his diary.

"But you'll come back. And when you come back you'll have a different name..." she said. She also said other things he couldn't remember: he had been staring at her chest and down her dress. She wasn't wearing a bra. Her tits were starting to sag a bit, so they swayed side to side like his memory in time when, later, he'd try to remember the real date when the gypsy had read his hand.

When Martha finished reading his hand, she stood up and stretched. "I've been sitting all day" she said, visibly tired and sored. He was still hypnotized by her tits. He took out a crumpled bill from his pants pocket and put it in her hand. Without saying goodbye, she turned around and started walking away from the crowded commercial area surrounding the subway station.

"What's your name?!" asked Hector.

"Saraí" she whispered.

"what?!" he asked again, "I cant hear you".

But she had already dissapeared behind the pirated porn movies booth.