Caliber 45.docx

Caliber 45: Chapter 1:

I say goodbye to her with a kiss on the cheek-that caress me as the dew of the tree at the end of the year (that is ubicated over me), with these endless rains wich characterize Bogota, in a little time it make me go back to my childhood years, where I played among the rain with my neighborhood friends, with these carefree mother that loves her son, without the maternal love characteristic of a mother, with with a love of an especial friendship, of estimation, of a true and autentic friendship, that to someone human, it’s hard to buld with their progenitors. I know and I’m aware, that i won’t be able to get away of that being that of anyway make me feel a little bit better with my life. Chapter 2: All my life, I have been dependent of the others, and when my parents died in an automovilistic accident, that doesn’t nothing of accident, because they were politicians that went against of that conservative hegemony that Colombia has had since its beggining. They were completely enemies of my parents and their colleagues, that some slowly were dissapearing such the political world as of the world itself ending with their lifes, in where to the next day two of their best and most confident friends of all life, that don’t prove be these type of people really, having how result, that kidnap me and almost kill me, asking a reward in exchange of my life and my wellness, also establishing how principal condition, that they recant them about a proposal that they had realized on the congress, that consist in increase the rent tax to private companies a nine teen percent that would be dangerous for their economy, Because they were the owners of the companies. I move along for all tenth street ignoring all that happens around me, and unconsciously being to feel me bad with myself and with my life, highlighting my conduct with others and with Angela, when suddenly he heared an explosion accompanied of screams almost exactly where I said goodbye to her. Chapter 3: Hurriedly I come back to the tragic imaginative sucess which in my mind I give it a differents types of end. I run, run at the speed that my body can resist, run with force, with anguish, I arrive to the place almost without know it, I can see someone laid on the floor, “is a woman” i think, and I

can see it with my eyes is Angela, I start to make different images and crazy ideas that it was my fault, that it happens to consequence of leave her alone knowing that the two last months I had been pursued by a group of infiltrated paramilitaries in the capital(here). How I’m a medical examiner I might find out the death cause of her. In the moment I forget that I loved and love that woman but the unique thing that I can do is helping her to find who were her murderers. Part 2 next year. I need two or three tenths please. I strive too much. I promess that the next year I will have the second part. Tomás J. Chavarro 18/August/2019