A new reason to smile

think about yourself, while everything I think and do is f

swallowed these words feeling his thorns tearing me up inside, de

years I lost myself, every day I try to under

, living at his mercy, giving up my dreams for Murilo, I begin t

t the same time, it is even harder to imagine m

wills are somehow tied to him, no matter

ecision to make or what course of action to take. I feel as if it i

usually girlfriends or wives of Murilo's friends, and we all live

ggerated proportions, but which I understood as zeal and care. Even though this situation bothered me, I would rather lose a

ries my colleagues told and shared with each other were completel

de me. Hearing those stories, even from afar, made me uncomfortable,

ported their dreams, no matter how absurd or ridiculous they seemed, who surprised them with simple gestures like a little note at their bed

d that taking care of the house is a woman's thing and how tired Murilo was of the heavy and stre

*

ter

on, that is, when I "rebelled" against the si

houting, he would start slamming doors, breaking objects in the house, or at leas

allowing the sobs that rose in my chest as I watched the hand slowly glide across the clock every five minut

if I just tried a little harder. Murilo had been gone for almost three hours and w

like any other woman. The thoughts ran through my mind like a runaway train, even as my hands touched the extremely soft fabrics that occupied that corner of the closet. I remembered the

ance I knew he liked best, and made an effort t

g an atmosphere worthy of clichéd romances, th

wait

ait

garage door opening. I smoothed my hair, took a deep breath. The tension was still inside

are you clo

I'd surpris

ll you that you don't think, Ma

ut

Maísa. You make me sick.

ing from inside my soul. He took me by the arm and led me almost dragging me in front of