A SIMPLE ROOM

  A SIMPLE ROOM Dedicated: Thomas Retamal CHAPTER 1 – THE ROOM WHERE STORIES ARE BORN Luis Hernán Carmona always woke up before the city did; no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t oversleep. Instead, all he could do was stay up and try to organize his thoughts. While the streets of Providencia were still bathed in the faintly orange hue of the sunrise, he lay in bed, staring at the ceiling of his mother’s apartment. The ceiling was colorful by design, he had begged his sister to paint over the original color, which was white. He loved staring at the ceiling, it was painted like an abstract piece, with explosions of color here and there. The sight always engaged his mind and senses. As he thought about his sister painting the ceiling, a faint breeze blew in through the half-open window, rustling his hair. The breeze brought the faint scent of freshly cut grass and wet grass from the compound outside. He knew if he stepped out, he could rest on a comfortable chair on the L-shaped ...