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"No te escucho bien, estás triste... ¿es eso, no?"
"Mhn..."

No, también está el hecho de que textraña y no te tiene a su lado, de que hace semanas duerme sola en su cama fría y pequeña, de que por más ocupada que esté, le sobran las horas para acordarse de vos, de tus manos, de tus besos, de las lágrimas que podrían estar rodando por tus hombros en lugar de caer directo en el vacío entre sus piernas cruzadas en el suelo.
El teléfono en la oreja le tiembla, la voz se le sacude, los suspiros ahogan la bocina así como se le quedan atoradas las palabras en la lengua.
Ya los vas a ver, ya te va a ver, ya se van a ver. Mientras, a esperar.

Y colgó el teléfono con una promesa colgándole de la comisura de los labios que a poco se le iban marchitando. Imposible pedirle una sonrisa.

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