Clean Sheets Translated into Portuguese

Lençóis Limpos

Acordava em lençóis limpos naquela manhã. Na verdade, eu havia trocado os lençóis na noite passada. Eu dormia com um edredon xadrez vermelho me cobrindo em uma noite quente. Dormia em uma cama queen size. A mola do colchão havia quebrado após treze anos de uso, então eu havia substituído a mola cerca de seis meses antes. O pé da cama box também havia quebrado na armação, e  tive que apoiá-la com alguns livros que eu tinha por aqui.

Eu estava inquieta na noite anterior. Tinha ficado me revirando na cama por causa do calor. Era como se os espíritos daqueles que se foram antes de mim quisessem relembrar algum outro momento comigo. Isso fez com que o meu suor me deixasse pregada naquele edredon sujo. Eu acordava contorcendo-me em agonia por causa das dores no estômago. Os buracos de queimaduras fizeram o poliéster do edredom ficarem ásperos. Meu cabelo estava grudado ao mesmo travesseiro sujo que uma centena de moradores daquele hotel barato já haviam usado antes de mim. Alguns fios de cabelo ainda permaneciam agarrados às fibras. Qualquer investigador de uma cena de crime ficaria confuso com os  mais de dez tipos de sangue de viciados espirrados na parede e de manchas de violência e auto-mutilação. Minha vida realmente era um show de horror.

A medida que eu me levantava arrastando minhas contra a parede suja, meu primeiro pensamento ao acordar era "foda-se a minha vida". E a dor não terminava aí. Esta era apenas a percepção da minha situação e não o começo de uma solução. Eu sentia a minha pulsação naquele momento. Tive agulhas pontiagudas enfiadas em minha perna e perdia a picada na minha coxa. E aquela massa vermelha e inchada de carne estava gritando "me leve ao médico", mas eu resistia. Precisava arrumar alguma forma de conseguir dinheiro. Eu corria contra o tempo. E os suspiros secos logo estariam sobre mim. Sem descanso para os maus.

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