Ficción: La pecera/ The fish tank (ESP/ ENG)
La pecera
A veces apartaba la vista de la pantalla y se quedaba mirando fijamente a través del cristal al pez que nadaba en la pecera. Como si estuviera viendo una película interesante, se quedaba sentado en el sofá, boquiabierto, mientras los cereales empapados en leche y saliva le goteaban por la comisura de los labios y empantanaban el asiento. A veces, el pez se giraba hacia él y lo miraba fijamente. Entonces, el hombre se sentía incómodo al ser observado, apartaba la vista y se recostaba en el sofá sudado y sucio.
Era uno de esos momentos en los que, sentado en el sofá como una foca varada entre las rocas, vio que, aunque echaba hojuelas de cereal en la pecera, el pez no salía de su escondite.
Se acercó al recipiente transparente, con la boca aún llena de cereal y leche, y descubrió que el pequeño y colorido cuerpo del pez estaba enredado en lo que parecía una cadena de suciedad. El cuerpo sin vida del pez parecía una carnada nauseabunda en el agua sucia llena de cereales y limo oscuro.
Golpeó la pecera y echó más hojuelas de cereal en un movimiento obviamente estúpido, pero el cuerpo seguía enredado y los ojos del pez parecían gelatina derretida. Sin saber por qué, sintió pena por él, y una punzada de agotamiento le hizo meter la mano en el agua estancada para intentar sacar el cuerpo del pez. Pero en ese momento, sintió la mirada de alguien y se volvió para ver a un hombre en el edificio de enfrente, sosteniendo un bol de cotufas, mirándolo fijamente. Allí, en este lado, sintió la mirada insistente del otro hombre como si fuera un peso sobre sus hombros. Así que sacó la mano de la pecera y se sentó en el sofá cubierto de desperdicios. Con la mano aún mojada, se llevó mecánicamente los cereales a la boca y sus ojos vidriosos se asemejaban a los ojos de un pez muerto.
La imagen principal es de libre uso y editada en Canva, y el texto fue traducido con Deepl Translate
HASTA UNA PRÓXIMA OPORTUNIDAD, AMIGOS
Versión en inglés
The fish tank
Every time he got home from work, during that free time he had before going to sleep, he would sit down on the dirty, worn-out, old sofa in his apartment's living room, turn on the television like an automaton, eat a bowl of cereal with milk, and scratch his bare belly. From where he sat, he would look at the fish tank near the sofa and, from time to time, throw a flake of cereal into the water just to watch the fish swim around like crazy with those watery, jelly-like eyes: "Poor fish, it has such a miserable life. He's so lonely, poor thing," he thought as cereal crumbs fell from one side of the sofa to the other and others fell on his belly, which he then picked up and put in his mouth.
Sometimes he would look away from the screen and stare intently through the glass at the fish swimming around the tank. As if he were watching an interesting movie, he would sit dumbfounded on his sofa while cereal soaked in milk and saliva dripped from the corner of his mouth and stained the seat. Sometimes the fish would turn to face him and stare at him. Then the man would feel uncomfortable being watched and would look away and settle back into the sweaty, dirty sofa.
It was one of those times when, sitting on the sofa like a seal stranded among the rocks, he saw that even though he threw a cereal flake into the fish tank, the fish did not come out of its hiding place. He approached the transparent bowl, his mouth still full of cereal and milk, and found that the small, colorful body of the fish was entangled in what looked like a string of dirt. The fish's lifeless body looked like nauseating bait in the dirty water filled with cereal and dark slime. He tapped on the fishbowl and threw in more cereal flakes in an obviously stupid move, but the body remained tangled and the fish's eyes looked like melted jelly. Without knowing why, he felt sorry for it, and a pang of exhaustion made him put his hand in the dirty water and try to pull the fish's body out. But at that moment, he felt someone's gaze and turned to see a man in the building across the street, holding a bowl of popcorn, watching him intently. There, on this side, he felt the other man's insistent gaze as if it were a weight on his shoulders. So he took his hand out of the fish tank and sat down on the sofa covered in trash. With his hand still wet, he brought the cereal to his mouth, and his glassy eyes resembled those of a dead fish.
HASTA UNA PRÓXIMA OPORTUNIDAD, AMIGOS
Versión en inglés
The fish tank
Every time he got home from work, during that free time he had before going to sleep, he would sit down on the dirty, worn-out, old sofa in his apartment's living room, turn on the television like an automaton, eat a bowl of cereal with milk, and scratch his bare belly. From where he sat, he would look at the fish tank near the sofa and, from time to time, throw a flake of cereal into the water just to watch the fish swim around like crazy with those watery, jelly-like eyes: "Poor fish, it has such a miserable life. He's so lonely, poor thing," he thought as cereal crumbs fell from one side of the sofa to the other and others fell on his belly, which he then picked up and put in his mouth.
Sometimes he would look away from the screen and stare intently through the glass at the fish swimming around the tank. As if he were watching an interesting movie, he would sit dumbfounded on his sofa while cereal soaked in milk and saliva dripped from the corner of his mouth and stained the seat. Sometimes the fish would turn to face him and stare at him. Then the man would feel uncomfortable being watched and would look away and settle back into the sweaty, dirty sofa.
It was one of those times when, sitting on the sofa like a seal stranded among the rocks, he saw that even though he threw a cereal flake into the fish tank, the fish did not come out of its hiding place. He approached the transparent bowl, his mouth still full of cereal and milk, and found that the small, colorful body of the fish was entangled in what looked like a string of dirt. The fish's lifeless body looked like nauseating bait in the dirty water filled with cereal and dark slime. He tapped on the fishbowl and threw in more cereal flakes in an obviously stupid move, but the body remained tangled and the fish's eyes looked like melted jelly. Without knowing why, he felt sorry for it, and a pang of exhaustion made him put his hand in the dirty water and try to pull the fish's body out. But at that moment, he felt someone's gaze and turned to see a man in the building across the street, holding a bowl of popcorn, watching him intently. There, on this side, he felt the other man's insistent gaze as if it were a weight on his shoulders. So he took his hand out of the fish tank and sat down on the sofa covered in trash. With his hand still wet, he brought the cereal to his mouth, and his glassy eyes resembled those of a dead fish.
Sending you some Ecency curation votes!
Thank you so much for your support, my friend! Best wishes and blessings.
Esta publicación ha recibido el voto de Literatos, la comunidad de literatura en español en Hive y ha sido compartido en el blog de nuestra cuenta.
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¡Felicidades! Esta publicación obtuvo upvote y fue compartido por @la-colmena, un proyecto de Curación Manual para la comunidad hispana de Hive que cuenta con el respaldo de @curie.
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Muchas gracias por su voto y apoyo, amigos. Éxitos y bendiciones
Una historia que me gusta mucho leer, con esa narrativa tan buen trabajada, que nos hace quedarnos hasta el final. Excelente trabajo.
Gracias por compartir tu historia con nosotros.
Excelente día.
Gracias por tu amable comentario, amigo. Un excelente fin de semana. Saludos
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Gracias!
Hehe what a story. For one fleeting second I imagined him being shot by the other man! A curious hug today