Memories

I met her in adolescence and never stopped wanting her. She told me about every kiss, every lover, never knowing I kept all her words for lonely nights.

I went out determined to let him see me with other men, but I ended up between two cars on an empty street, letting a stranger use me.

My patients tell me their secrets and I nod as if mine weren’t worse. Today, for the first time, I’m going to tell you the truth about me.

He was my best friend, my confidant. That night at the fair, between wine and laughter, his hand on my waist ignited something I had never felt for him.

I swear this is a real story, one you don’t tell out loud. She appeared from the hedges almost naked, asked me for a light, and everything else just happened.

Dommes squeeze, ring, burn them. We barely lick. The first time I looked at a pair up close was in a student flat, long before I knelt before anyone.

I never promised you more than I gave you, and maybe that’s why you came back. This is the story of the woman I never truly got to know.

I had seen him only once and couldn’t forget his body. When I learned he was looking for me too, I waited for my mother to go to work and let him in.

I never imagined that an ordinary Sunday at the river would end with me on my knees in the grass, giving myself to him and begging him not to stop.

I kept it to myself for over a decade. It all started with a pair of white stockings and ended in a car at two in the morning, with the last person I should’ve gotten involved with.

We had arranged to exchange some photos. What neither of us said out loud was that this reunion had been waiting months to happen.

That afternoon, in the silence of the house, an accidental brush revealed a language my body spoke and I still didn’t know how to read.

She lied to me about everything: her name, her job, the reason she came close to me. The only truth was how she trembled when I touched her again.

I stopped my bike in front of Andrés’s house not knowing his mother was waiting for me in the doorway, and that that empty afternoon would change everything between us.

When the downpour flooded the city, everyone ended up at my place. I never imagined I’d feel Damián inside me again that night—or that we wouldn’t be alone.

The hospital smelled of bleach, but all she could breathe was the memory of callused hands on her back and the suspicion that tonight, too, she wouldn’t open the door.

I thought the family weekend would be like any other. Until she walked through the gate and I realized the past had never really been buried.

I smelled fresh coffee and knew the night before hadn’t been a dream. Yamila was still there, in my kitchen, her skin still warm with desire.

The call came on a Saturday at dusk. Her parents were away, and her voice on the phone trembled a little. I knew then the night wasn’t going to end early.

Marisol was sitting on the edge of the bed with the baby at her breast, completely naked, when I pushed the door open. The milk was running down on its own and she didn’t ask me to leave.