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the outside and got locked inside
at the same time.
The manager called the police
and when they arrived they did
their job: over and over again they
asked Walter where he had been
during the night, who his enemies
were - of any kind-, why he did
not report the noise of hammer
blows on he door (Walter thought:
“Logically, because I did not hear
them”) in addition to questions
about his job, his girlfriends and a
very long etcetera. They also took
any fingerprint they could find.
When policemen and onlookers
were gone, Walter shut himself in
his apartment and started to think
that something had happened with
him since the accident.
Am I driving myself crazy? – he
asked himself
He knew about many people
who, after suffering a traumatic
brain injury as severe as his own ,
developed strange psychopatholo-
gies such as depression, paranoia,
bipolar disorders, dual personality,
and even multiple personality, not
to mention those who remained
plunged in an imaginary world
they are never be able to escape
from, prisoners forever of their delu-
sions and alternative reality.
He spent the whole morning feel-
ing more and more depressed. He
felt lonely, utterly lonely. On that
Thursday the only thing that en-
couraged him was the fact that in
four more days he would be back
to his job, which seemed to be the
most certain alternative of contain-
ment considering what was going
on.
In his office, he did not feel lonely,
he knew he was useful, surrounded
by people who appreciated and
respected him. He wished to return
to work more than anything in the
world.
The depression that was getting
the better of his soul that morning,
made him eat hardly a bite at
noon; and a few minutes after one
p.m., Walter was drawing the cur-
tains of his bedroom, flooding the
room with darkness. Sideways in
his bed, with his legs curled up in
fetal position, he fell asleep hoping
that those four days would vanish
from the calendar so that he would
be able to get back to his office.
At four o’clock his eyes opened,
blinded by the brightness. Curtains
were wide open and a cascade
of sunlight shone through and hurt
his eyes.
His heart beat rapidly. He was
afraid and cornered by something
he did not understand or was
not able to control. He walked
to the dining room and his fear
increased; the table was cross-
wise the place where it was three
hours before; every chair had
been moved and properly placed
around the table; the floor lamp
was not in its usual place nor were
the armchairs of the living room.
It was apparent that somebody
had been there and rearranged
the furniture while he was sleep-
ing. Everything was done taste-
fully and somebody had taken
the time and effort to thoroughly
clean every piece of furniture; in
fact, he even found that the new
arrangement made a better use
of space and light, but that was
not the point. The point was that
an intruder had entered his house,
played with his stuff and even had
the nerve to open the curtains of
his own bedroom.
He ran to entrance door thinking
that he might have left it open; nev-
ertheless, the door was still locked.
Undoubtedly, whoever it was had
the chance of unlocking the bolt,
getting in, and closing the door
again. Somebody had managed
to get his keys, and make a copy
in order be able to get in and out
at will.
He was delirious and consider-
ing the names of possible intrud-
ers. Suddenly, he realized that
the intruder had made the effort
to carefully clean the thick glass of
the living room table. It was possi-
ble that the trespasser would have
inadvertently left a clear revealing
fingerprint that would allow a posi-
tive identification. Without thinking
twice, he called the police.
When policemen arrived, a sec-
ond time in the same day, they
suspected that the man who was
before them might be losing his
mind. Anyway, it was the first time
that somebody called them to
report that an intruder had left his
house cleaner, better arranged,
and that nothing was missing.
They took fingerprints again from
the dining room table and other
areas; asked if he needed a doc-
tor and after Walter’s refusal, they
went away.
The once-cheerful and success-
ful man in charge of the Creative
Department was at that point a
shadow of his former self two
months ago.
Hesitant, he did not know whether
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MAGAZINE - APRIL 2012