Sugar Bow (English)

Chapter 1

MR. ELEGANT 

It is so thick and so long that I doubt if I can bear it. In and out, again and again until it finally enters. Only 15 others are missing.

-Who can think of buying wooden sticks without first thinking about the weight of the dolls? - I say to the ceiling as if it could hear me. -And I can't understand why they enroll in a craft class if they are going to prefer that the staff do the work for them. Didn't they suppose to want to learn? - I grumbled. -I don't know how she can make me assemble all these pieces on my own. My arms may be relatively fit, but putting these paperweights together, or I think they are, is too much for one person. Someone stronger than me should do it, or at least we should do it between two - I think.

I charge a stack of 15 that I have finished assembling and take it to the opposite end of the room. I return to my seat to finish the other half. As I turned around looking for more glue on the back shelf, I accidentally threw away the inventories that were in one of the corners and now all lie mixed on the floor.

-It has to be a joke. This can't be more horrible-

It took me two hours to finish putting the paperweight together, picking up the mess of documents I made on the floor and sorting out the largest cabinet material for tomorrow's class. My body is so tired that I can feel my pulse on my forehead.

-I don't even know why Mrs. Smith saves all these piles of inventories, doesn't check them, just accumulates them.-

The door opens just when I finish placing the last piece of the rebuilt stack of papers. I see a small chubby silhouette, it's Mrs. Smith.

-Thanks, my heart, it is always good to take the order of the materials for each class- not even she believes it.

I realize there are only two students left in the backroom, two pretty old women who enrolled in the clay art class, I don't understand what they plan to do with the clay, but they provoke cute feelings to those who observe them.

Everything in this world is based on goals and everyone who has or succeeded must have had many before achieving it. I work for mine, and I say it literally because otherwise, I wouldn't be here. My shift ends. Before I leave, I order the brochures from the counter. I say goodbye to Mrs. Smith and run away, go down the stairs humming a song and leave the building. I have never told anyone, but the nights in Manhattan are my favorite part of my work, they are full of lights, artificial of course, but that does not detract from the place. I walk to the subway station, board and take the train on the way home. Not without accompanying me the way with my favorite song in my headphones. A while passes and I notice that there is a man of mature age watching me from the other side of the train. He watches me the same way I look at ham pizza. He keeps on it until I can get off and change the train.

I reached to finish the last song of my playlist before arriving at my station. Everyone knows it as the Baker, in fact, because it always smells like bread. I go out quickly to the street, it is giving me a huge desire to go to the bathroom because of the two liters of water that I drank while assembling the paperweight at the academy. I walk a few streets towards home, but first I pass to the corner mini - supermarket.

-Where's the chocolate milk?- I find it next to the donuts.

I finally reach the entrance of my building. As always I can't find the keys in my backpack.

-I don't know why they always get lost. I have to listen to Dad and buy a bigger keychain- I tell myself in an attempt to scold.

After spending 3 minutes looking for them without success comes Mrs. Poll, my neighbor, a nice woman who lives with her 15-year-old granddaughter, Roberta, in the apartment below.