One Image, One Story"
That afternoon, as always, he had a strong argument with his partner, he was a somewhat violent young Spanish man, he frequently yelled at her in a loud voice, on occasional occasions the residents of the building would have claimed the fact of creating scandals late at night . She left that morning, determined to file a complaint to get a restraining order in addition to leaving taking advantage of the fact that he was at work to leave him.
Laura, a young Venezuelan, would have arrived in Madrid 4 years earlier as part of that diaspora that left with many illusions of looking for a better future, a better way of living in other distant places, invited by a great friend who stayed at her home for the first few months. She started a job as a waitress in a nearby bar, there she met Manolo, a very gallant Spanish gentleman who began to charm her with details, outings and gifts.
She left the town hall quickly with the copy of her complaint, on the way she was remembering all the mistreatment received by Manolo with whom she went to live three months after meeting him, beatings, slaps, violent shakes, she never returned to her friend again, it would have been three long years of constant fighting and reconciliation. She felt liberated, the respective copy of hers for him would be taken by the municipality to the house in hours where her husband was. She quickly collected her clothes, her belongings, she put what she could in a bag so as not to raise too many suspicions that she was abandoning what until then was her partner.
All nervous, she arrived at her friend's house, when she saw her, she surrounded her, told her what was happening and because she had so little contact with her, Maria hugged her tight and even placed an ointment on her battered face. She began to cheer her up, she told him; We are going to fix you, I fix your hair, your eyebrows, I paint your nails as if we were in Venezuela. Laura breathed peace. At the end of the afternoon, María colored her nails and mentioned it; I am going to paint them yellow, blue and red like our flag, the laughter began that ended in tears when remembering the beloved country.
The next morning, leaving for work, she did not notice that someone was following her stealthily, Manolo was looking for the right moment and he managed it by crossing the park, he pounced on her and shot her in the head before she had yelled at me, nobody leaves me, let alone a Latina, that's all. Laura's body was left lifeless among dry leaves, evidence number 3 placed by the police next to her left hand showed blue and red, her other fingers were the yellow of a national tricolor that she would never return see.