Mari Sea, accelerated by the delay, entered the gallery of art of the street Jorge Juan of whom she was co-owner. Her partner was inside. Single. Hello, Merc, affection greeted, before giving it him in the lips a warm and loving kiss. Merc asked it to Rovirosa: From where you come, so escopeteada? Of the past responded to him, smiling, Mari Sea. You remember that one Alberto del that I have spoken some times to you, that one friend tontorrn, enamored with me, whom it had in Zarautz? Then I finish seeing it.
Ah! That one that knew ours? To that you told him that you and I had coiled myself? Yes. The same. But you do not go to crertelo. All these years thinking that she was the unique person of my past that knew ours and is that no, that the poor man nor found out than I told him. The type always has thought that she was asexuada woman and who, instead of to enamor with you when I discovered your homosexuality to me, is that me left traumatised for always. And Mari Sea Colindres, remembering to the good-natured one of Alberto, to simpln of Alberto, that never found out don’t mention it, was put to laugh prisoner to Merc Rovirosa, its friend, its companion, its lover, with whom it took coexisting almost forty years.