BAND-AID

She opened the messy drawer in her bedroom and started looking for a Band-Aid for her finger. She had cut herself while chopping onions and, even though it was just superficial, it stung like never before. Batteries, pens, Post-it notes, key chain, hair clips... She was about to give up on finding anything in the middle of all that junk, when she saw the shape of a tiny bag of first aid kit at the very back. She stretched her arm a little to reach it, but hesitated for a second, when she realized that underneath it was an envelope marked with a heart. "Would that be...but I threw them all away" she thought, as she sat on the bed and started to open the envelope slowly. "Oh no...". The envelope was full of photographs that had, somehow, survived when she moved houses. She took a deep breath, as if inhaling all the air she could before jumping into the sea, and pulled the pictures out. The first one was of him, which she took during one of their trips together. He was wearing the sun glasses and plaid flannel shirt she was so fond of. Then a photo of the two of them laughing. A photo of them walking on the beach. A photo of a hug. A photo of a kiss. They had been separated for months now, but suddenly it was as if she could feel his presence there. She threw herself back, lying on the bed. She remembered his smell, his touch, how she liked to fit in his arms. "Shit..." she said under her breath. She got up and walked towards the trash can, to get rid of the last printed memories. When she closed the lid though, she realised that the story about our brain only being able to pay attention to one pain at a time was the absolute truth. She had completely forgotten about the cut on her finger until that moment. And now the only thing she wished she had was a Band-aid that also worked for her heart.

CURATIVO

Abriu a gaveta da bagunça no quarto e começou a procurar um Band-Aid para o dedo. Tinha se cortado picando cebola e, embora tivesse sido bem superficial, ardia como nunca. Pilhas, canetas, post-it, chaveiro, prendedor de cabelo... Já estava desistindo de encontrar qualquer coisa no meio da tralha, quando viu o formato do saquinho de curativos lá no fundo. Esticou um pouco o braço para alcançar, mas hesitou por um segundo, quando percebeu que embaixo dele havia um envelope marcado com um coração. "Será que... mas eu joguei todas fora." pensou, enquanto sentava na cama e abria o envelope devagar. "Ah, não...". O envelope estava cheio de fotografias que, de alguma forma, haviam sobrevivido à mudança de casa. Respirou fundo, como quem toma fôlego antes de pular no mar, e puxou as fotos para ver. A primeira era dele, que ela mesma tirou em uma das viagens que fizeram juntos. Ele usando os óculos escuros e a camisa de flanela xadrez que ela tanto gostava. Foto dos dois rindo. Foto dos dois andando praia. Foto de um abraço. Foto de um beijo. Já estavam separados há meses, mas de repente foi como se ela pudesse sentir a presença dele ali. Se jogou para trás, deitando na cama. Lembrou do cheiro dele, do toque, de como ela gostava de caber naquele abraço. "Merda..." disse baixinho. Levantou e foi em direção à lixeira, para se livrar das últimas memórias impressas. No entanto, quando fechou a tampa, se deu conta de que a história sobre nosso cérebro conseguir prestar atenção apenas em um machucado por vez era a mais pura verdade. Tinha esquecido completamente do corte no dedo até aquele momento. E agora tudo o que mais queria era que existisse um Band-Aid que funcionasse para o coração.