La plaza en la que se encontraba el vendedor de flores era de reducida medida y forma triangular. Poseía bancos viejos, desgastados y rotos que la sombra de los árboles se encargaba de resguardar. Bajo uno de ellos se encontraba un hombre la mayor parte de los meses, el vendedor de flores.
«Promociones del dia», rezaba un cartel. La cartulina de los precios prometía los mejores de toda la adyacencia, aunque era el único puesto de flores que había en ese lado de la ciudad.
Los visitantes del cementerio que quisieran comprar no tenían más que dos opciones: traerlas de dónde vinieran, o comprarle a él, Serafino. Una tarea bastante complicada.
No daba placer acercársele, en gran medida por su aspecto. Tenía la piel amarillenta, los ojos enrojecidos, los vellos del rostro crecido y sin un orden que seguir. Sumado a eso, dientes sucios, ropa maltrecha y una mirada que incomodaba tener encima por más tiempo del necesario.
No era solo lo que se veía por fuera lo que ahuyentaba a las personas, era su manera de ser y tratarlos. La forma de hablar y las palabras que utilizaba, las expresiones en su cara, los ademanes agresivos de sus manos y la obsesión desmedida por unas cuantas monedas.
The square where the flower seller was located was small and triangular in shape. It had old, worn and broken benches that were sheltered by the shade of the trees. Under one of them stood a man most of the months, the flower seller.
"Promotions of the day" read a sign. The price card promised the best prices in the whole area, even though it was the only flower stand on that side of town.
Visitors to the cemetery who wanted to buy had only two options: bring them from wherever they came from, or buy from him, Serafino. A rather complicated task.
It was no pleasure to approach him, largely because of his appearance. His skin was yellowish, his eyes reddened, the hair on his face grew and there was no order to follow. Added to that, dirty teeth, battered clothes and a look that was uncomfortable to have on him for longer than necessary.
It wasn't just what he looked like on the outside that scared people away, it was the way he was and the way he treated them. The way he spoke and the words he used, the expressions on his face, the aggressive hand gestures and the inordinate obsession with a few coins.
Era el conjunto de lo que observaban en él que hacía que las tres mujeres, de avanzada edad, mantuvieran la distancia, indecisas. Lo miraban como si previeran una estafa o algún truco, como si Serafino le fuera a arrebatar sin ningún temor el dinero de las manos.
Sin embargo y contrario a lo que pareciera, no le rogaba a nadie, esas tres señoras no eran la excepción. Se sentó en una silla destartalada y encendió un cigarrillo, sonriendo al tiempo que daba una larga calada. Disfrutaba causar malestar en esas mujeres.
Cómo si el cigarrillo las hubiese hecho decidirse, compraron las flores rápidamente y se marcharon lo antes posible. Lejos del molesto humo y de aquel hombre repulsivo.
—La próxima vez traemos nuestras flores —susurró la que se veía más enojada cuando se estaban alejando.
—¡Pues sí, traigan sus propias flores, estiradas! Yo no les venderé más.
Las señoras apresuraron el paso hasta casi echar a correr.
—Si van a poner tantos peros que mejor no compren nada —murmuró, y luego, una sarta de improperios.
It was the whole of what they observed in him that made the three elderly women keep their distance, undecided. They looked at him as if they foresaw a scam or some trick, as if Serafino was going to snatch the money out of their hands without any fear.
However, contrary to appearances, he was not begging anyone, and those three ladies were no exception. He sat in a rickety chair and lit a cigarette, smiling as he took a long drag. He enjoyed causing discomfort in those women.
As if the cigarette had made up their minds, they quickly bought the flowers and left as soon as possible. Away from the annoying smoke and that repulsive man.
—Next time we bring our flowers —whispered the one who looked the angriest as they were walking away.
—Yes, bring your own flowers, you stiffs! I won't sell you any more.
The ladies hurried their pace until they almost ran.
—If you're going to put so many buts, don't buy anything —he muttered, followed by a string of expletives.
Poco después, había vendido todo el lote de flores que había traído. A pesar de no ser carismático, y contrario a lo que pensarían todos, su forma de ser hacía que las personas compraran rápido y se fueran. Cómo si algo en él negara la posibilidad de decir «No».
Cuando la calle se despojó de todas las personas, guardó su material de trabajo en la casa, que le quedaba cerca, y volvió a salir, mirando a uno y otro lado.
Se acercó al cementerio y cruzó la mirada con el vigilante, el hombre asintió y lo dejó pasar. Le pasó un billete y lo dejó atrás, luego, fue en busca de las flores que había vendido.
Tenía una buena técnica para conservar las flores, por lo que podía reutilizarlas luego y como la gente tardaba tanto en volver al cementerio, nadie se daba cuenta.
Después de recaudarlas todas, se dirigió a una de las paredes internas del cementerio. Escaló un poco, dejó las flores en un lugar seguro, se bajó y fue hasta la entrada del cementerio nuevamente, para salir como si nada.
Al entrar a su casa, se quitó los zapatos y la camisa y se sentó a ver televisión, como si nada hubiera pasado. Eso estaba lejos de ser cierto.
Ignoraba que al salir del cementerio una mirada estaba posada en él, ignoraba que tarde o temprano su vida iba a cambiar por completo. Después de todo, nadie le robaba a los muertos sin pagar las consecuencias.
Continuará...
Soon after, he had sold the entire batch of flowers he had brought. Despite not being charismatic, and contrary to what everyone would think, his way of being made people buy quickly and leave. As if something in him denied the possibility of saying "No".
When the street was cleared of all people, he put away his work material in the house, which was close by, and went out again, looking this way and that.
He approached the cemetery and exchanged glances with the watchman, the man nodded and let him pass. He passed him a bill and left it behind, then went in search of the flowers he had sold.
He had a good technique for preserving flowers, so he could reuse them later and since it took so long for people to return to the cemetery, no one noticed.
After collecting them all, he went to one of the inner walls of the cemetery. He climbed a little, left the flowers in a safe place, got down and went to the entrance of the cemetery again, to leave as if nothing had happened.
Entering his house, he took off his shoes and shirt and sat down to watch television, as if nothing had happened. That was far from true.
He was unaware that when he left the cemetery a gaze was fixed on him, unaware that sooner or later his life was going to change completely. After all, no one stole from the dead without paying the consequences.
To be continued...
Fuentes 🥀 Sources
1, 2, 3,4