"I am looking for a way"
Chapter one
The first time Muriell told me about her way of life, I did not reproach her, but inside myself I judged her. That is typical of humans. We never see the real reasons and even worse, little is done to help those in need. "Each one carries his cross" — so many people say.
Muriell must be my age, twenty-three, possibly a few months older than me. Her lips quite plump. In college they said that her lips were appetizing and sexy, for God's sake! nothing like mine, so thin and small that I must be repainted to make them visible. She is a little taller and taller with her high heels!
I always preferred my sports shoes, those RS21s or the Nike shoes when my parents were alive and they could buy them for me. In college it was better to dress casual or sporty, no formal suits and less with skirts or dresses. Winds are everyday in the state where I live. The dunes are so close to the city that you often see piles of sand on the edges of the doors and windows and with so much wind, wearing a skirt was not at all comfortable. Muriell earned much more than I could earn by frying empanadas and selling juices, of course before the crisis had touched us because after it, the truth is that I gained practically nothing. My only income until two days ago was from a food kiosk that after the death of my parents I had to rebuild and equip so that my younger siblings and I did not lack food.
These last few years have made me shredded!. My faithful opposition parents died in the Amuay explosion, and as against the government no one can, in any way, one more death without culprits. My father was a programmer and from him I learned many tricks that in my career served me a lot. Sure, painfully, after I graduated it was of no use to me. Who was going to hire me? To me? Daughter of a scrawny talker? Yes, of course. I got tired of sending resume. Apparently no one was interested in a systems graduate, trilingual with experience in security devices, and God help me! that in my country, there would be vacancies with the amount of loose thug!The truth is, listening to Muriell awakened my five senses and developed a sixth. She always looked beautiful and smelled like "Perry Ellis" or "Carolina Herrera" fragrances that now, even the peddlers could not buy. Her Iphone 5 had been the last acquisition and she kept it as if it were pure gold. She often paid for a taxi, had a personal taxi driver to avoid taking risks. She didn't want to be killed to steal her. She was an engineer like me, without many honors, but an engineer. Unemployed like most professionals in my country. And she earned up to twenty daily wages without much effort and with joy. I doubted that a bit. I was not convinced by that face of false happiness. It should not be easy to spread the legs of any asshole who has money to pay that right ... Despite not being convinced of the apparent "Great life" that my friend Murriell was giving herself, my inner demon incited my Christian side to consider that lifestyle as the perfect alternative to escape from this hell created by Chávez and redesigned by Maduro.
