thirty minutes


It only seems like a few minutes ago that the cleaner arrived and found me passed out on the floor. She woke me and was so beautiful that I was confused and wondered who she was.
‘What happened?’ I asked.
‘Yo no hablo Inglés’ she replied.
‘Who are you?’
‘limpiador’
She looked around the apartment in disbelief… it was like a real life scene from one of the ‘Hangover’ films. I saw her looking in horror at the clothes piled on the floor that I had kicked off only a few hours before. I tried to explain that I was dying and that Madrid was to blame but she had no sympathy. With a series of hand gestures I convinced her to come back in thirty minutes. I threw up in the shower and went to work.

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