happened twenty minutes of pressing the button. In the pre-wash, the washer began to roar in a strange way and blew the water bubbling. Paula had three days since Tuesday, his first night with Laura. A friend had advised him: If you return to your home, you do not see you're still with the same sheets, aunt, wash, do not be nasty. Paula had been reluctant to do so, in the next two nights had been happy to lie down and feel again the smell of Laura that surrounded her. But he ignored her friend, and put the washer on Friday. Twenty minutes later, mop in hand, picked it up all the love that overflowed Tuesday, hoping that wasted so much fluid is not a bad omen of things not to be repeated.
But repeated. On Saturday afternoon were all in the park. Laura shed twice a wine bottle over the blanket on which had been lying. When they left for home, despite the afternoon sun, the blanket was wet. The next morning, Laura got the blanket, still wet in the washer. The set up and grabbed Paula by the arm. Wait, Paula said watching the washing machine, sounds weird. No, it always sounds so, we'll be late, said Laura. Paula obeyed. In the film, two glasses of Coke fell to the ground before they could take the first sip. When they returned three hours later, the floor was flooded.
A year later, when they were living together in a basement in the downtown, the storm was mythological. The radiated in all media, and even international broadcasters spoke of the water falls in that country that no one had bothered to study in school or out in the news. But no one spoke of Paula or Laura, or how they were trapped forever in that basement, immersed in the liquid element preserved forever overflowing love which had, before anything or anyone could make them wary of that feeling. Drought never came. Floating between furniture and appliances, with clasped hands, their faces smiling in a limbo of water and love.
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