Wrought Iron Side Tattoo

Is there anybody there? Infidelity

the flames crackle in the winter night and the smell of eucalyptus leaves that burn in the fire permeates the room. The old read before the fire, alone, in the only inhabited house in the village. Sound beating on the door. Startled, he drops the book and the common cat, who was sleeping curled up in the heat, take a jump. Pick up the book, places it on the table and is waiting, looking lost among the yellowed photographs that watch from the dresser. Resumes another round of blows. It stands up with unusual agility and goes to the door holding my breath. About hearing and listening. Silence. Is there anybody there? He asks. The cat sticks his nose to his gray felt slippers. No one answers. Does anyone?, Repeats itself. On the other side only hear scratches in the wood. It is her courage and opened. A woman like her, it pours in without looking, he goes to the room, grab the book that are on the table and sits down to read in front of the fireplace. The cat arches its back to the hair tip. The old woman tries to talk but his mouth only white smoke exhaled. The mirror above the sideboard returns a blur that fades gradually.
A few minutes later, again sounding knock at the door. The woman who came from abroad, startled, drops the book. Is there anybody there? He asks.