Rob was white-brown-black. He had a hole in his leg and something going on in his ear that made him unable to keep balance, avoid idiots and jump on time to fall with elegance. I never cared. On In winters, he liked to sit on the couch besides the brazier. Heaters in this remote part of the world have a spacecraft shape and are located below a round table that presides (not sure what you mean here exactly) the living. The table is covered by thick cloths with fringes in on its edge and Rod used to play with them on the couch while I took siesta. Once he scratched my eyelid making me wake up in the most unexpected pain. I remember he starred at me paralyzed, feeling the wound on my face like if it was tearing his heart apart.

He wanted to smell nice, so I used to shower him in the bathtub and place him under the round table, close to the heat, to dry him up. He didn’t move an inch till his hair was afro-style. That annoyed the hell out of my roommates “He’s not supposed to be so scented. It’s not natural.” But what could I do? He liked to look smart.

Sometimes he had to go to the closet and wait in there for a while. Mom was visiting me and she didn’t like white-brown-black guys. I embarrassingly apologized to him and gave him a puppy dog glance while sealing his mouth with a hush. He knew how to behave and got my back.

At nights he used to go mad and cry. The shouting usually lasted till I opened my bedroom door and let him lie down on my pillow. Then he stomped my head and messed my hair up. I didn't mind.

One day a roommate got a red rash… he was just too jealous of Rob and asked him to leave the flat. He found a girl from the other side of the town and left me behind. Years have passed. I think I can’t move on, though. I want Rob back.

Good job as usual, Carmen.