Autumn in Buenos Aires

breakfast in mc donald's. i drink my coffee. it's cold outside. autumn in buenos aires.

i read the newspaper. (an enthomologist approach to the news). three kids (ages 15 to 17) go to a drugstore in a small town (some small town in argentina). they point the kid at the cashier machine with a gun (the kid is 16). he knows them. they used to play soccer together. they live in the same small town. the kid is not even scared. he thinks its a joke or something. hey, you guys, what the fuck are you doing? give us the money, they say. the kid argues. it's my daily salary, he says, the owner won't pay me if you take the money (only ten dollars in the cashier machine). they insist. (the kid makes 150 dollars a month working in the drugstore after school hours). he still thinks it's a joke of some kind. they shoot him in the middle of the chest and run away with the ten dollars (the frozen second between the shooting and the impact in his chest, when he realized it wasn't a joke at all).

they bring ambulances and doctors. someone calls the kid's dad. dad is a retired police officer working as private custody in a shopping mall nearby. dad gets there. he sees the doctors and his son on the floor. blood all over his chest. the place is already crowded with curious people. dad mutters something to the doctors. his son is dead. dad takes his gun, looks at the doctors and says there's nothing left. dad shoots himself in the head.

it's cold outside and my breakfast is over. the breeze and a chilling air. yeah, it's autumn in buenos aires.

© copyright, 1999, Flavia Dzodan
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