The Dangers of Smoking in Bed

by Mariana Enriquez

It’s not exactly practical to try and strangle a dead person, but a girl can’t be desperate and reasonable at the same time.

Sometimes I think the crazies aren’t people, they’re not real. They’re like incarnations of the city’s madness, like escape valves. If they weren’t here, we’d all kill each other or die of stress, or, I don’t know, we’d go after those asshole city guards who won’t let you sit on the steps of the museum, or in the Plaza de los Àngels…have you seen them? The fuckers go on raids, and around here it’s ‘antisocial behavior’ to sit on the sidewalk and drink a beer.”

she just wanted that vaguely distant, chemically induced state that disconnected her but still let her live a little. Less and less, but enough.

Sometimes she even brought a book to the bar, and that attracted some glances, but no one had ever bothered to ask what she was reading. With a book, she could tune out the conversations of the other office workers, which didn’t interest her at all.

It was the first time Graciela had seen a moribund person walking, a person whose mind didn’t register the death of the body. She’d been shocked.