They reached the main bridge. He thanked the driver and crossed the highway. Several people were clustered together under the bridge.
By Fabiana del Valle
HAVANA TIMES – The fan that was agonizing after years of work, switched on. The bed no longer seemed so uncomfortable to him, the mattress springs caressed his body, drenched in sweat and sores from scratching himself so much. Finally, his brain got a drop of peace, enough for the sleepiness to engulf it after a night of insomnia.
But it didn’t make sense to sleep for a mere half hour. At five am, he had to get up. He plugged the telephone into the charger and pulled up Facebook. Different posts paraded through the newsfeed.
Videos of funny puppies, denunciations, complaints, humorous posts, speeches from the Summit, teens with short pants and bad spelling. The official television talk show Mesa Redonda, the collapse of another building in Havana, and memes. Those already boring memes that Cubans create to laugh at their disasters.
At his side, his wife protested. She’d spent the night tossing and turning in the bed. She woke up exhausted, but at least she’d managed to steal from the blackout some intermittent minutes of sleep. Uncomfortable from that harsh early morning awakening, she got up and made him coffee. They still had the privilege of consuming this beverage as their b
