A Story A Day. Story 86 of 365: Cursed.

Pages and pages he wrote, restless. Feeling the pen rip apart the skin on his hand, but not being able to stop. Seeing the blood spots on the paper. Feeling the pain, but not being able to stop. He had been writing for days, his arm sore, his legs asleep, his head about to explode. Yet, his hand was acting on itself on a quest. A quest to write the longest poem ever. He wasn't even able to see what he was writing anymore, he couldn't control it. Some part of his brain that had ever been unconscious had taken a shortcut and took control of his whole body. A part he could not reach even if he tried to. He was hungry, he was thirsty, but he could not stand up. At one point the pen ran away of ink. To his horror his hand started using his own blood as ink. He wondered how much more he would be able to write before bleeding to death. The pain was excruciating, he closed his eyes, trying to isolate himself from it all, but it made it only worse. He opened his eyes again, and stared at the verses, nothing made any sense, he could read some words "penitence", "sorrow". What was he writing? The pile of blank paper was growing thinner and he soon ran out of it. He had the hope he would have to stop writing when the paper was over, but his body had other plans. He stood up, almost falling after so many days of inactivity, and started writing on any smooth surface he could find. When he was done with all the inside walls of his small apartment, as he was thinking there couldn't be more blood in him to keep writing, he found himself outside, in the middle of the night, leaving his words on the outside walls. The neighbors found him there, finally bleed to death, the poem unfinished.

A Story A Day. Story 85 of 365: Englishman.

He was the perfect English man, polite, contained, and that accent! Oh, that accent was making Joan crazy. She swooned over him, following him around, aware of each of his moves. She had already imagined their dream house and the life they would life together back in England. She had also tried to invite him for dinner at least a thousand times, but he always politely refused.

Every night, as he got home, his wife would ask him if he had finally told her he was married, and every time he would reply.

-Oh, my dear. I don't want to hurt her feelings.

A Story A Day. Story 84 of 365: Nightmares.

Bill had been having nightmares for a month. Every night. He was afraid to go to sleep, because he knew he would wake up covered in sweat. He tried to stay awake, but he could only hold it for a couple of days before falling asleep without even realizing it. The worst part was that he never remembered what he had been dreaming when he woke up. Yet, he was going crazy.

Not too far from Bill's house an old lady was rejoicing herself. That young arrogant man should be having a hell of a time, she thought. Serves him well for laughing at me, she, on her turn, laughed.

A Story A Day. Story 83 of 365: Time.

Once upon a time there was a man who always wanted to be something else. He worked hard, following his objectives, but he was always far from them, because he always wanted something else. He lived his life thinking there was always one step ahead. It was only in his death bed when he realized he had never been what he really wanted to be, himself. 

A Story A Day. Story 82 of 365: Claustrophobia.

The space was growing tighter and tighter. She could feel the air growing thinner and thinner. And the revolving door wouldn't stop spinning, but there was no way out. She panicked. She wanted to sit down and cry, but she was forced to keep walking in circles. She started pounding the glass walls, screaming, crying, but the people who were outside just stared at her blankly. She was trapped between three glass walls and she could barely move. She wouldn't be able to breathe in no time, but the walls kept growing closer and closer. People outside started pointing at her and laughing at her struggle. The walls started crushing her, and she was soon unable to breathe. By then the doors were the ones moving her around, leaving a trail of blood behind them. 

A Story A Day. Story 81 of 365: Packing.

There was no way all her life could fit inside those suitcases and those boxes. There were many of them, but many were the things she had, too. It wasn't only the tangible objects, but the memories. There wasn't a box big enough to fit the memories. She stopped by the door to remember how Gary carried her in the day they moved in. Next, she brushed the paint on the walls with her fingers, they had needed almost two weeks to decide on its color, and a whole week to paint the house, it had given her the worst headaches in her life. At the bottom of the stairs, the marks the safety doors had left once they took them out because the kids were old enough. Pat and Sally running down the stairs on Christmas morning. Everywhere she looked she could find some kind of memory. The kids and Gary came back inside for more boxes. He walked up to her, after sending the kids upstairs.

-Sara, are you okay?

-I can't believe we are leaving.

-I know you'll miss it, but we couldn't let the opportunity slip through. After all, you're going back home.

-Yes, Rome. Home.

A Story A Day. Story 80 of 365: Son.

Some people are born to be teachers, or presidents, or astronauts. Rita wasn't, she had been born to be a mother and she had always known. However, that was proving difficult. She had decided, after her first sexual experience, that she hated men. She was stubborn and no one could change her mind. After trying, fruitlessly, to conceive through artificial insemination, she started considering other options.

The paperwork for adoptions was long and frustrating, but it was her only way to become a mother. Rita faced interminable interviews, where they scrutinized her, making her feel uncomfortable and violated. They looked at every corner of her house, asked thousands of questions to anyone who knew her, and, in the end, they deemed her unsuitable for adoption.

Her world crumbled, she fell into depression and wouldn't leave the house. Her life was meaningless. One stormy day, as she contemplated suicide, the doorbell rang. A drenched teenager wearing a large trench coat was standing by her door. She begged Rita to give her a place to spend the night, and she took pity of her. As the young girl entered her house Rita saw she was pregnant. Karen, the young girl, ended up staying with Rita, she had no family and nowhere to go, and Rita insisted on her staying at her house to keep her company.

Delivery day arrived, and Rita had everything ready for a home birth. She had been training for the last months and took care of everything by herself. When the baby started crying, she cried tears of joy. An exhausted Karen asked to see the baby, Rita took it to her, and as the young girl caressed the baby's head Rita strangled the young mother.

-I finally have a son of my own.- she said to herself picking the crying baby up.

A Story A Day. Story 79 of 365: Jealousy.

When Ed, her boyfriend, suggested her about going to another city for the weekend, Regina thought it was weird. He told her a friend of his had recently moved there, but she had never heard of such friend.

They drove for an hour or so, from the big cosmopolitan city to a small rural city. They passed through fields and forests, driving on the highway. There were some factories, which made her depressed. She was a city girl, a sophisticated city girl. Nature and stuff was good, but not when it was everywhere. Ed drove inside the city, and parked on a small alley. 

A smiling girl opened the door. She wasn't gorgeous, but she had something. She was outgoing and there was a sexiness around her, though she didn't seem to notice. There was a full on party inside the house, people everywhere. She hugged Ed.

-Olga, this is Regina.- he said.

-Oh, you didn't tell me you would bring a friend! Nice to meet you Regina. The more the merrier! 

Friend? That word made her cringe. And Ed didn't even bother on correcting her. He just followed Olga inside without adding anything. Regina tried to stay calm, after all they hadn't been dating for too long, maybe he wanted to break the news in a more private way. She helped herself to a glass of wine, and one of Olga's friends approached her and started asking her questions. In the meantime, Ed was talking only to Olga, as if they were the best friends ever. If that was so, how come he had never told her anything about Olga?

He finally came back to her, but only because Olga left to talk to someone else for a second. Regina saw that Ed couldn't take his eyes from his friend. Her blood was boiling, yet she was trapped in that stupid city away from everything, why did he take her there, anyway? Since there was nothing she could do, she sat on a corner, being sullen and avoiding talking to anyone, with the hopes Ed would realize it and take her out of the party, but he was too busy, apparently.

Regina stayed silent for most of the ride home. Ed didn't stop talking, unaware of her anger.

-You don't get it, do you?- she finally exploded.

-Get what?

-You took me to this stupid city just to see you drooling over that girl.

-I didn't,...

-"I didn't", yes you did, and you didn't even tell her I am your girlfriend. Are you ashamed of me?

-I'm not!

-Well, then it's much easier, you like her and you don't want to close any door.

Ed didn't reply. Regina knew she was right, she knew he hadn't gone behind her because he knew she was too much for him, but he still liked her. She considered whether to dump him, but she loved Ed, even if he was a jerk, sometimes. So she resolved to live her life with the jealousy eating her heart in small bites. 

A Story A Day. Story 78 of 365: Guilt.

Michelle had done something terrible and got away with it because no one had discovered. She was selfish and disturbed, and she believed she had done the right thing for a long time. However, as years passed by, guilt started to infiltrate into her mind, from small drops to a stream that ended up flooding her brain. She couldn't understand why she felt guilty after so long, but the truth was she couldn't even sleep because of it. She started being paranoid, thinking everyone knew what she had done, thinking the government was chasing her down, surveilling all her moves. She cooked herself everything she ate, with fear she would be poisoned, and she installed extra locks on all the doors and windows, yet she was sure someone got into her house when she was away. Guilt was making her crazy. And then she decided to go to the police station and confess.

-Hello, madam, do you have any problem?- the officer asked her, seeing her in clear distress.

-I come to confess.

-Confess, what?

-Ten years ago, I killed my daughter.

A Story A Day. Story 77 of 365: Explode.

He had always laughed at fat kids. He was fit during his high school years, and fat kids were easy to pick on. Yet, he, himself, ended up being a fat adult. He ate and ate without end. Until one day he ate so much he exploded. And that was his sad end. 

A Story A Day. Story 76 of 365: Workaholic.

She loved her job, she really did. But she was becoming obsessed with it. It had become her life. It was a gradual change. She started leaving the office a bit later than usual, then she stopped going to the gym because she had things to do at work. After that she started going there on Saturday mornings, which prompted her to cancel all her Friday night plans. From that moment on it all went downhill. There were days when she would leave the office at midnight and still be the forst one in. She didn't take holidays anymore, even if her boss had tried to force her too. She basically lived in the office. 

Even with all her dedication, her performance started to ressent from her obsession. The company was not happy with her, and, after some struggling months, she was fired. She found herself with nothing to occupy her time with and completely depressed because they had taken away the only thing that gave sense to her life. 

A Story A Day. Story 75 of 365: Equinox.

Even after so long after having abandoned witchcraft I still feel the pull of the Spring Equinox. It is as if all my blood cells bloomed at once, and I feel the need to go out and find as many men as I can. I control myself, obviously, I stopped practicing magic for love, and I want to keep my vows. Still, on days like this I wish I hadn't. I still talk to my sisters and they tell me about the rituals. I miss it. Today, I'll cook something special, I still don't know what, and try to convince Rick to sleep under the stars, he will give in, eventually. So, at least I'll have some contact with nature. It's the Spring Equinox, after all.

A Story A Day. Story 74 of 365: Different.

Dennis was only a little kid, yet he knew deep down he was different. It was not the color of his skin, his hair or his eyes. It was something that could not be seen. He tried to understand what it was, but he couldn't find anything. He became so obsessed that his parents started worried. 

-Dennis, honey, are you worried about something? 

-Mum, am I different? 

-Everyone is different, sweetie. 

-I mean different different. 

-Mmmmm, maybe it's time you know this,... I'm not your real mum. 

-Who is my mum? 

-Well,... We don't know. A UFO dropped you on our front yard. 

A Story A Day. Story 73 of 365: Gone.

-You know? I still remember you, how could I forget you? There were more after you, a couple, but you were special. I still keep your things in a box, and, sometimes, I take them out and look at them. Your shirts still smell of you, you always smelt so good. This is one of the things I miss the most, your smell. And how you praised my cooking, you loved my meatballs, no one has liked as much since. It's been too long since I've last seen you, but we will meet again soon.

Claire saw her grandmother by the gravestone, talking to it as she would every time she went to visit. She went by her side and took her by the arm.

-Grandma, it's time to go.

The old woman didn't say anything, she just glanced once more at the old tombstone. "John Flanagan. 1958-1967" it read.

A Story A Day. Story 72 of 365: Candy.

All the kids were gathered around Jack. The six-year-old boy was explaining something in a hushed voice. Brenda, their tutor, got closer, trying to eavesdrop what the children were saying. She was worried about Jack, his parents had just divorced, and he had been more cheerful than usual. Brenda had been wanting to talk to him for days, but she had always been too busy.

-You're lying! No one gives you free candy!- the voice of Sally, the know-it-all from the class, broke Brenda's train of thought. 

-My neighbor, Mr. White, does! 

-Liar! 

Brenda decided that was as a good time as any to talk to the little boy. Also, she hadn't liked the free candy talk a bit. She called Jack apart.

-What was that about Mr. White?

-He takes care of me. In the afternoons. And he gives me candy. Lots of candy!- his eyes opened wide.- He told me not to tell you! It's our secret!

The kid refused to talk anymore, so Brenda decided to go speak to his mother. Jack's mother lived in an old neighborhood were kids played on the streets, there were few cars, and everyone knew each other. Brenda pressed the doorbell.

-Oh, hello. You are Jack's teacher, right? Brenda? I was about to leave.

-It's not going to take me long, Mrs....- she didn't know what to call her anymore.

-Call me Becca.

-Ok, Becca. I heard Jack talking about Mr. White giving him candy, today at school. But when I tried to talk to him about it, he told me it was a secret. Are you aware of this?

-Oh, Mr. White has been giving candy to the kids for ages! I used to go when I was a kid, he's a candy maker, and would let us try the candy before he put it on sale.

Brenda was relieved.

-I was worried he might have been molesting Jack,..

-Don't worry, it is widely known that Mr.White prefers goats. 

A Story A Day. Story 71 of 365: Seashore.

They had a love-hate relationship. She had taken everything he had ever had, everything he had loved. Yet, he couldn't stay away from her. 

She was moody. One day she was warm and welcoming, the next she was furious. Like the day she took it all from him. His house, his family, his happiness. She threw her waves at him, and he was left alone, waiting for her to return the shreds his life had become. His drenched belongings washed on the shore some days after his drowned wife had. His sons she never returned, keeping them for herself as a token of love. 

She was cruel, but he could not run away. He could not live away from her. He had tried, he ran as far away as possible, up to the mountains were her whisper was long lost. But he missed her. It had been his first love, after all. And she was all that he had left, her flicker lover, the sea. 

A Story A Day. Story 70 of 365: Fire.

It was getting dark and the temperature was dropping. They had been lucky they had found the cave amidst the storm, but they knew they needed fire to spend the night. And none really knew how to set one. All the wood was wet, and the matches too. 

-We should have taken a lighter.- regretted Carl. 

-The wood would be wet all the same- stated Elizabeth.- Are you sure there wasn't any animal inside this? 

-I didn't see any.

Carl gathered some timber that wasn't as wet as the rest, and tried, fruitlessly, to get a spark from crashing two stones. Elizabeth took the flashlight and explored the insides of the cavern.

-I'm sure there is some kind of animal living in here. There are bones and stuff scatered on the floor. It's gross! 

-Whatever it is won't come back if we have a fire. So help me light it. I really wish I had been a Boy Scout right now,...

They tried to light the fire for hours, at one point they were even excited because they managed to produce some smoke. However, in the end, they gave up and bundled together inside a sleeping bag. Elizabet woke up, alarmed, in the middle of the night. 

-Carl. Carl. There's something in here with us.- she said pulling his arm. 

He woke up disoriented. 

-What did you say? 

-The animal! It's in the cave!- she was doing her best efforts not to scream. 

-Ok, stay calm. If we don't hurt it, it won't hurt us. 

He could hear the sound it was making. Ripping meat, crushing bones. Elizabeth was trembling in his arms. His eyes grew acostumed to the darkness and he started seeing shadows, but none of them looked like an animal. The cavern grew silent. Whatever it was moved without making any perceptible noise. Carl was holding his breath, when whatever it was hissed at them. He turned on the flashlight, fast. A set of eyes reflected the light before running away.

-A cat! It was a goddamn cat!

A Story A Day. Story 69 of 365: High.

I closed my eyes, hoping the faces on the wall would banish. But they didn't. I could hear them whisper, laughing at me. There were three of them. One was a normal human face of a woman, only her skin was dark blue and her eyes red. She had razor sharp teeth that showed in a horrible smile. Her hair was a plain brown, that seemed out of place. The second face was barely a draft of a face. It had two small slits that were its eyes, and a larger one that was its mouth. It also had two small holes for the nostrils. Until it started speaking, there was no way to know it was a man's face. The third face was the worst. It wasn't human, it wasn't anything I had ever seen. She had large white eyes, so large that they took up half of her face, but no visible pupil. Her skin was pitch black and scaly. Her lips had been cut away and her toothless mouth was always open. She was the one that scare me the most, and also the one my eyes were drawn to all the time. That's why I closed them. I tried to cover my ears with my hands, but their voces slipped between my fingers. 

-Dylan. Dylan.- the blue face whispered, her voice sweet as a mother's. 

-Dylan. Dylan.- the rough voice of the faceless face shouted. 

-Dylan. Dylan.- the sibiline voice of the scary face called. 

Her voice was like a magnet to me and I opened my eyes. But it was no longer her, and there were no longer three faces. It was only one face. A face I had know really well, Elsa's. She was frowning, her grey eyes full of anger, as I had last seen her. 

-Why did you do it?- she repeated, but, as the time she had asked me in real life, I didn't have an answer. 

I remember having an anxiety attack and passing out. The following morning, when I woke up, I promised myself to never take anything Luke gave me, anymore. 

A Story A Day. Story 68 of 365: Art.

Jason ran blindly, carrying a large folder. He knew running was pointless, but he had to try. He sneaked inside a dark alley just in time to see the police hover-motorcycles fly past. It had been a close call. He opened the folder, and checked what was inside of it. The colored papers were in good conditions, Jason didn't dare to take them out in the middle of the street, but he was relieved all the same.

He barely knew where he was, but he managed to find his way to a safe location. Sometimes, he wished he weren't an artist. It was not like he had any other choice, it was the only thing he was good at, and the only thing that made him happy. It was dangerous, however.

Arts had been banned during the great epidemic, almost two hundred years ago. A virulent virus had decimated the world's population, and all available hands were needed to transform humanity into something new. Arts were ruled out as useless, and whoever practised them was sentenced to death. It wasn't much of a problem at the start, because everyone had lots of things to do, and even if they had an artistic feeling, they could repress it with hard work. As humanity bounced back, however, it became harder and harder for artistic souls to hide. Some people went back to painting, writing, singing, and dancing, in the privacy of their homes. This lead to underground artistic groups forming, and Jason was part of one of them. 

He arrived to one of the safe havens, still shacking from his experience. He didn't know anyone from that house, but artists were all family, so they took care of him. He would have never thought that he would end up this way, hidding all the time. He hadn't seen his mother in ages, and she was the only one in the family who supported him. But it was too dangerous, he was an outcast, and outcasts didn't have families. 

An older woman brought him a cup of broth and a blanket. 

-Are you okay, son? 

-Yes, I think. 

-So, you're a painter, they told me. Can I see your paintings? 

-Sure. 

He handed them to her. She looked at them for a long time, in silence. 

-It's a beautiful work, what was your name again?

-Jason. 

-Keep working, Jason.

And she left without adding anything. Later, he discovered that she was Amalia, the head of the underground resistance, but that was years after their casual encounter, when he had finally made a name of his own.

A Story A Day. Story 67 of 365: Hollow.

Stephan was raised in a extremely catholic family. He always went to church on Sundays and he was a very active part of the community. When he was old enough he decided to become a priest. His family supported him, and his grandmother was very proud. His friends didn't understand at first, but if he thought he would be happy they weren't anyone to judge. He studied for several years, and he excelled, because he loved God, and he was doing it for Him.

He fulfilled his dream, and became one of the youngest priests in the country. He was so busy, during his first years, that he could have the luxury of ignoring the emptiness inside him. However, as the years went by, Stephan could feel the hole inside of him widening, keeping him awake at night. He tried to fill it with prayer, but it only made it grew even bigger. What was happening? Wasn't God always the answer? He started thinking he was a failure, and his sermons only grew darker and darker.

On a specially bad sleepless night, Stephan donned his street clothes and drove to another town. He entered the first bar he saw. He didn't know what to ask for, he hadn't drunk anything in ages, so he simply picked the first thing he saw; a whisky. He sat there in silence, sipping from the glass when a woman approached him. She was around his own age, and pretty. Her name was Melissa and she was a psychologist. They talked for hours about their problems, specially Stephan, although he never mentioned he was a priest. Melissa invited him to her place, and he, to his own surprise, accepted. The following morning the emptiness inside him was gone. He thought he should feel guilty, but he didn't.

A Story A Day. Story 66 of 365: Motherhood.

Sue was a natural sufferer. She was always worried about things that could go wrong in her life, and getting pregnant only made it worse. She became completely crazy, paranoid, even. She would control everything she ate, touched or smelled. She would go to the doctor at least once a week, twice sometimes, thrice the worst weeks. It didn't mater he had told her everything was okay. She made him run all the possible tests twice. If she didn't like any of his answers she would go seek other counseling. She ended up quitting her job just to have enough time to go to the doctors, and weeks before her due date she demanded to be admitted at the hospital.

When the time arrived, she had been in the hospital for a month, and five nurses had already asked not to work in her room. The delivery was perfect, even if the mother was hysterical. When she heard the baby crying, Sue started to cry too.

-Is he okay?

-Yes, he's a perfectly healthy baby, only...

-Only what?- she said recovering all her strength.

-His skin is green.- said the doctor showing Sue her pea-green son.

A Story A Day. Story 65 of 365: Warmth.

She woke up, feeling the warm sunshine kissing her skin. She didn't know where she was, or even what her name was. She looked around alarmed and she almost fell down from the hammock she had been lying on. "Well, if there's an hammock it means there must be people around" she thought. She looked at her body, she was all in one piece, wearing a bikini and pretty tanned. She hopped off the hammock onto the sand. She was on a beach, the sea crashing on the shore. There was no one in sight, but there were some houses scatered around. She looked around once more, not knowing what to do. Finally, she went into the water and back to the hammock, where she fell asleep once again.

-How are you feeling, sweetie?- a man's voice woke her up.- Remember anything, yet? 

-Who are you? What happened in here? 

-I see you don't. I'm Ryan, your husband, your name is Eve. A coconut fell on your head the other day, you spent two weeks in the hospital and we came back here so you could recover. 

A Story A Day. Story 64 of 365: Chocolate.

The first time I had chocolate my mind was blown away. I was in my twenties, and a boyfriend gave me a box of chocolates for Valentine's Day. It was the first time I had chocolate for myself, also. My family was poor, and we couldn't afford those luxuries, we had cake only on really special occasions, and, compared to the cakes other people had, was more sweet bread than cake, however we all knew that we needed to save as much money as possible to afford having studies. My parents, both came from really poor families, and they barely knew how to write, but they had been educated long enough, and they had had a hard enough life, to know that studies would be important for their children. This meant no holidays and no expendable things, like chocolate. We had a spartan lifestyle.

So, there I was, in my twenties and having a box of chocolates all for myself. I remember crying because of it. My boyfriend couldn't understand it, he had never been poor, he had taken chocolate and nice things for granted, he couldn't quite grasp what it meant to me. I thanked him a thousand times, and he insisted it was nothing, but it was. It was much more than he could ever imagine.

I opened the box with trembling hands. The smell hit me. It was sweet and creamy and sharp, if you've smelled chocolate you know what I am talking about, it's a smell you can almost eat. It's just a hint of the explosion of taste you're about to live. I closed my eyes and rejoiced on the smell. I thought there wasn't an aroma as good as it in the world. I thought that if heaven had a scent that had to be it. I started feeling the subtle notes of coffee, of fruits. I finally opened my eyes and looked down at the chocolates wrapped in colored paper. They had different shapes and colors, they were only chocolates, but to me they were like precious stones. I took one, my hand shaking from the emotion.

The paper made a crisp sound as I unwrapped it. The chocolate shone on my hand, dark brown. I touched it, it was silky and a bit cold. I raised it to my nose and smelt it. It was rich, exuberant. I took a first shy bite and the flavor went rushing through my mouth. I can't really describe it, but it tasted even better than it had smelled. I closed my eyes, once again and got lost in the ocean of flavor. Tart, sweet, exquisite. I think it took me ten minutes to eat the whole chocolate. I was overwhelmed with the experience. That box lasted me three months, I was keeping it for special moments, because I knew I would need time to enjoy the experience.

A Story A Day. Story 63 of 365: Paris.

They met again in Paris. The city of lights, the city of love. Clichés all over. Laia was there with her boyfriend, Jordi, on a surprise trip. He wanted to propose but she didn't know, yet another cliché. Xavier was there on a business trip with her eventual girlfriend, Meritxell, he still wasn't clear on where it was all going.

Later, they discovered they had crossed paths more than once. They flew from Barcelona to Paris on the same plane, their hotels where on the same street. But they only ran into each other on Xavier's last day in the city. He had taken a free day and had gone for lunch with Meritxell to a small restaurant that was famous for its home-made food. They were siting on a table in a corner, and he was facing the door, although he wasn't really looking at the people who were getting in and out, that's the reason he didn't see Laia. Xavier was focused on his filet-mignion when he heard a familiar voice.

-Xavi, is that you?

There she was, she hadn't changed a bit, she still looked the same she had ten years before.

-Laia? What a coincidence? What are you doing here? Come sit with us.- he said as he asked the waiter to set a pair of chairs at his table.

-Oh, I don't want to annoy you.

-You're not annoying anyone! Laia, this is Meri, my girlfriend. We used to go to school together.- Xavier told to his partner.

-Pleased to meet you.- Meritxell said kissing Laia on both cheeks.

-This is Jordi.-Laia added.

Jordi looked gloomily at the other couple, he had wanted to propose over lunch, and now he would have to postpone it.

Laia and Xavier spent the lunch talking about their past days, and then she insisted on spending the afternoon together. After that Meritxell insisted on all of them having dinner together. Jordi was desperate, but Laia accepted so swiftly that he couldn't say a thing. 

The stories continued over dinner. 

-You know, Jordi, you're a lucky guy. Back in high school I had a huge crush on Laia. She never knew, I never told her, until now, that is. She was, and still is, so perfect, and I was short and fat and shy. So I had enough with being his friend. We promised to be in contact after high school, but I left to study abroad and we never saw each other again. I'm glad to see her again, though. 

Meritxell laughed at the story, but Laia stayed silent and smiled. They had all been drinking some excellent French wines and were a bit tipsy, Jordi had loosened a bit and insisted that they all had to meet again back in Barcelona. After dinner Xavier inisted on going out for drinks, but both Meritxell and Jordi were too tired. 

-If you don't mind, I'll steal her for the night.-Xavier said to Jordi.

-Of course not.

-Perfect.

They went down to a bar and had some drinks, they put themselves up to date with their lives, and when it was time to leave Laia insisted on walking back to the hotel. Xavier took her by the arm and they walked down the street by the Seine. It was a bit windy and Laia pulled herself closer to him.

-You know? I did know that you loved me, I did. And I always wondered what would have happened if I had given you a chance.

-It's not too late, Laia.

-I know, it's just that seeing you again, after so long, it feels weird. I have Jordi, and I love him, but you... one does not wonder just because, maybe I did love you.

-Laia,...

She stopped, and looked at the lights at the other side of the river. Her hands were trembling as she clutched to the rails. The wind made her long dark curly hair fly everywhere. She pulled it up on a messy ponytail.

-Laia,...- Xavier repeated getting closer.

Without saying anything he took him by his jacket and kissed him.

-You taste sweet.- she said.- I like it.

Xavier was startled, he didn't know what to say. Luckily for him, Laia did.

-We should give it a try, don't you think. Keep it in mind, and we'll figure it out as soon as we are back in Barcelona.

She kissed him again and then took him by the hand. They headed to the hotel as if nothing had happened. Xavier and Meritxell left the following morning, after exchanging phone numbers with the other couple. He and Laia acted as if nothing had ever happened. After they had left Jordi and Laia headed out to explore the city a bit more. Jordi insisted on going to the Eiffel tower for the sunset, although Laia wasn't really fond of high places. They were lucky enough to find a place on top to watch the sunset. Laia was doing her best not to look down when she realized that Jordi was looking at her intently.

-What?

-Laia, do you want to marry me?

Another, cliché, him proposing on top of the Eiffel tower during sunset. He seemed to have a thing for them, Jordi. Laia looked into his eyes, for a second.

-Yes.

A Story A Day. Story 62 of 365: Beautiful.

Maggie was never beautiful, not even as a kid, not when she grew up. She would go to sleep wishing to be thin and handsome the following day, but it never happened. It was not that she was not the ideal of beauty, it was that she was plain ugly. No one ever said she was beautiful, not even her mother, and it bothered her when she was growing up, even if her parents told her thousands of times that it was more important to be a gentle person than a handsome one.

She became an ugly girl and an ugly young woman. And, finally, she grew to accept it, "You're ugly" Maggie would say to herself every morning in front of the mirror "now, go win the world". She heard people talking about how everyone was beautiful and laughed. People needed to stop lying to themselves, not everyone is born beautiful.

A Story A Day. Story 61 of 365: Single.

"I'm going to die alone." Irina realized, and she couldn't be more happy about it. She had been dating since she was fifteen, and after fourteen years she had given up. She was independent, a bit too much, and she always felt that the guys she was dating were hindering her freedom. So Irina decided to take things as they came, and not to try too hard. After her revelation she dated some guys occasionally, but the relationships would die off as they had started. She focused on the things she enjoyed: traveling and her work.

Irina became a famous professor, she would go wherever her work took her, having nothing tying her to a place. On her deathbed someone asked if she regretted never getting married. "No" she said "why would I? I've lived the life I wanted."

A Story A Day. Story 60 of 365: Smile.

Cate hardly ever smiled. Men would tell her to smile more, as they would. Yet, she had always thought that smiling was a private thing, something you only did with your closest friends and family. It didn't help that she was a poet, and she always wrote sad poems and tragic stories. People thought she had an unhappy life, but she didn't.

That day Cate had gone to give a conference at a university about contemporary literature. Nothing unusual happened. There were some smart-asses asking her the same self-sufficient questions. There were some dumb girls who had bought her books just because she was coming, and they wanted to look clever in front of the others. And there were the young-Cates, girls that were just like her, girls who listened but didn't say anything. They were all the hope there was left for literature, she only expected to have made an impact on them.

She opened the door, the whole house smelled of roast beef. Mark always cooked something special on Fridays. Cate walked to the kitchen and kissed him on the lips, she, then, turned around and picked their little daughter from the chair. She smiled at her with a toothless grin. Cate smiled back. Yes, she was happy.

A Story A Day. Story 59 of 365: Breathe.

"One, two, breathe. One, two, breathe." That is the only thing Aiden would think about while swimming. "One, two, breathe." Once more. He approaches the end of the pool, touches the wall with his hand and propelles himself towards the other end with his legs. "One, two, breathe." Twenty-five meters, fifty, one hundred, five hundred, ten hundred, fifteen hundred. "One, two, breathe." Sometimes he loses count of the meters. "One, two, breathe. One, two, breathe." Twenty hundred. Someone else gets inside the pool, they're faster, they're slower, it doesn't mater for Aiden, the only thing that matters is his rhythm. "One, two, breathe." He can feel his legs hurting, demanding him more oxygen. He can also feel his shoulders complaining because of the effort. "One, two, breathe." A glance towards the watch, time to go. This time when he arrives to the end he pushes himself out of the pool. Dripping water he heads to the bench and picks up his towel. After getting dry he stretches, feeling his muscles protest. "One, two, breathe." he repeats his mantra once more. Stretching is always the worst part. "One, two, breathe." His brain is numb while his muscles are active, so he tries to exercise as long as he can. "One, two, breathe." He thinks while he stretches his arms. "One, two, breathe." Yet, the magic is lost, the thoughts come back rushing into his mind.

Work, her, family, her, her, mainly her. Elizabeth is the new girl at work, she is stunning, she is sweet and Aiden liked her from the minute he had first seen her. And he can't get her out of his mind.

A Story A Day. Story 58 of 365: Happiness.

Happiness, for Francis, was always one step ahead. Whatever he did, wherever he went, he always though that happiness was in another place, doing another thing. If he was dating a girl, he always thought he would find happiness with the following one. When he was in a city he always thought that joy was a plane or a train ride away.

Clio was happiness by herself. She lived in happiness, drank it. She had learnt to find joy in every small moment in her life. Still, she was not an annoying person. She was outgoing, cheerful and always willing to help everyone.

Francis and Clio met during a party at a common friend's house. They didn't talk much, but, for some reason, Clio decided she had to meet him again, so she asked her friend for his phone number.

-Hi, Francis? Its Clio.- she said as soon as he picked up the phone.

-Uh, hello,...

-I hope you don't mind I asked Hellen for your phone number.

-Not at all,...- he wondered what did the girl want. If he recalled correctly, Clio was a short bubbly blond girl with big blue eyes.

-Do you want to go for coffee today?

-Why not?

-Great!- she said before giving him the details for their meeting.

Surprisingly for everyone who knew them, they did not only meet that one time, but, given time, they actually started a relationship. It was a sharp contrast, one of them was gloomy all the time, the other was always happy. Yet, they seemed to complete each other. With time, Francis seemed to realize that happiness was by the reach of hand. And, one day, Clio left him. She told him that he wasn't the one, but he didn't care because he had learnt to appreciate small things in life, and quickly found the bright side of it. And Clio became gloomy, always convinced that happiness was escaping her, forgetting that she had had it, forgetting what it really was.

A Story A Day. Story 57 of 365: Perfection.

Lucy and Ian were the perfect couple. They both were handsome and successful. She was a pediatrician at the local hospital, he was a respected lawyer. They had the perfect house, big, airy, clean, with a large garden and a pool. After only a couple of years of marriage, they had already started thinking about having kids. The neighbors loved them, and they hated each other.

Of course, they didn't know they hated each other, but it was deep in their hearts. They lived their lives as if they were still in love, thinking they were still in love, keeping the image of the perfect couple. Lucy dressed up to go on dates with Ian, Ian took her to places. Yet, their hate was growing inside their hearts, like a silent disease.

One day Lucy woke up feeling annoyed. She felt as if something was disturbing her, but she couldn't pinpoint what it was. She showered and went to the kitchen to prepare her breakfast, she was taking the milk out of the fridge when she felt that annoying sensation again, creeping down her back.

-Good morning.- said Ian.

Then, she realized. How could she be married to that man? Lucy searched into her heart and she could only find hate, as if all the love had banished overnight.

-Morning.- she replied coldly, how would she live now that she knew she hated him?

Ian sensed that something was wrong, Lucy wasn't her usual self, but did he really know her? Or had it all been an illusion? He looked at her as she ate her breakfast, he hated the way she chewed and she swallowed, he hated everything. Maybe they should get a divorce, but it wouldn't make it, she would still exist, he needed to erase her from earth.

Lucy had reached the same conclusion on her own. She had access to all kinds of medicines, it wouldn't be too difficult to dose him with something while he slept. She smiled to herself and kissed Ian on the cheek wishing him a good day.

When Lucy got home, after a long day, Ian had already set down the table and prepared a special dinner.

-Did I forget something special?- she asked suspiciously.

-No, it's just to celebrate how much I love you.

She sat at the table while he served dinner. Pasta with shrimps for her and plain pasta for him. He couldn't eat shrimps, but he knew how much she loved them, they were also an excellent camouflage for the poison he had used to spice things up. A client of his had assured him that she would die peacefully during the night. He hated her, but he didn't want to spend a bad night because of her struggles. She was starving so she gulped the food down without even tasting it. Ian had prepared tiramisu as dessert and they shared it. He decided to go to sleep early, while Lucy stayed awake catching up with the news on TV. She saw it as an excellent opportunity, she needed him to be asleep to inject him with the drug cocktail she had specially prepared. She bundled up on the sofa and waited for an hour, her stomach hurt, but she thought that it was probably because she had eaten way too fast. She had a look at her wrist watch and decided it was time to kill.

The syringe was on her purse, which she had left in the entrance, she walked silently to retrieve it and then started her mission. As she had expected, Ian, was deeply asleep. It wasn't too difficult to find a good vein, so she injected the drugs, got rid of the syringe and lay by his side to sleep, thinking that the next morning she would be free.

No one woke up the following morning, nor the next one. It wasn't until the neighbors called the police that they found them dead side by side. Both poisoned. Like a modern Romeo and Juliet. Their deaths were written off as suicides, little did they know.

A Story A Day. Story 56 of 365: Love.

Sitting all alone on the porch she wondered if she would ever feel alone. Grace had married Terry almost twenty years ago, and they had two children. She wasn't alone, but she felt so. As she watched the rain fall, her memories took her back to the days of her youth.

It was a cloudy fall day, and she was walking to her class in college all bundled up, she was from a southern state and wasn't used to the more severe weather in the north. Terry always made fun of her. They had met in their first year and became instant friends, Grace knew that he felt something else, but she wasn't sure he was the right one. She walked into the lecture hall and sat next to Isabel. Isabel was a strong woman who dressed like a man and had her dark hair cropped short. And she was a lesbian. And her best friend.

Isabel and Grace hadn't had the best of the starts, they had met at a debate group, were Grace defended her more conservative views, in opposition to Isabel's ideas. After a rocky start, they started hanging out, and they both moderated their sharp opinions. Grace's world changed after that and she saw that not everything was black or white.

As soon as Grace sat down, Isabel showed her some pamphlets about a demonstration the following Saturday. Grace looked at them and saw that Isabel's organization was behind it, of course she would go, she told her friend. Saturday came and Grace was side by side with Isabel, Terry was there too, he always wanted to show her girlfriend support, with the hope that she would love him more. However, the demonstration went awry and the police started chasing people off. Terry and Grace separated, and Grace desperately clung onto Isabel's hand. Her friend pulled her into an alley and they hid there until the police had passed.

-That was close, I've never been so afraid in my life.- said Grace, her long brown hair a complete mess.

-I have to admit that I'm scared too.

Grace saw that she was still clutching to Isabel, and she felt the warmth of her friend through her thick woolen sweater. In an impulse she got closer and kissed her. Isabel kissed her back, but she finally broke the kiss, and held her by the chin.

-Listen, Grace. You're going out with Terry, maybe you don't know if you love him, but you're still going out with him. I don't want to hurt anybody. So don't do this again.

-But,...

-Grace, why did you kiss me?

-I had to. I don't know. I think I love you.

Isabel simply shook her head.

-You need to put your thoughts in order, when you really know what you want, you can come back to me, until then, let's remain friends.

Grace knew that she loved Isabel, but she was also too afraid to admit it. So, when Terry proposed she said yes, even if she knew she didn't love him enough. They married as soon as they finished college and moved to another state. Grace tried to leave a happy life, knowing that she would never truly be happy without Isabel, but being too afraid to go seek her.