Chapter 5

Be that as it may, life went on. For Annette it was beautiful, like her — full of discoveries in her inner universe. For the old man it was as frightening and cramped as he was himself.

He who never learned in his youth finds his old age unbearably dull. Being an old scarecrow, Omar lived the life of a scarecrow. The neighborhood teens who used to torment the homeless, and were upset when the vagrants were chased away, switched their attention to Omar. Short, hunched, awkward, he was a perfect target. There was something about him that provoked aggression in people — not only in Yuri and the teenagers. Most of those who dealt with him soon felt a heavy irritation and even disgust. When you see a cockroach scuttling across the floor, you just want to crush it, don’t you? Even Omar’s old age inspired no respect. An old goat is still a goat.

On the day I want to tell You about, when morning was only just beginning, on tiptoe, to paint the clouds with color, Omar had just experienced a truly heavenly pleasure, masturbating to the memory of Annette standing before him in her underwear. He felt as if he were drifting in a sea of light ... But everything ends. He climaxed, and arousal gave way to cottony indifference. You pay for everything. With his demonic little entertainments, the old man was stealing energy from his own future. And payment arrived — in the form of three teenagers.

Omar was sweeping fallen leaves when they walked up.

“Hey, goat!” one of them called. “Gathering your lunch? Goats like grass and leaves.”

“The old goat’s still pretending he’s a person,” said another. “Pretending he’s a janitor.”

“Goat, don’t stay quiet!” the third shouted. “Or I might decide you’re busy thinking bad things about us!”

The boys burst out laughing. Omar clenched his teeth.

Stupid kids, he thought. Back home teenagers respected their elders. These little devils only respect strength.