There are days that start out normal, days that go by without a hitch and days that, without warning, give you a slap in the face of reality that you wouldn’t find in an absurd humor movie. This is the story of one of those days.
It all started on a trip to Salamanca with my friends. It was one of those plans that come out of nowhere, with more improvisation than organization, more laughs than itinerary and, above all, more beer than common sense. Between tapas and toasts, in a random street, we saw a lottery administration. And as good dreamers with a half-full pocket, we decided to buy a tenth each. Well, in my case, two. Just in case.
-Come on, the same number all four,” said one.
-So, if it’s our turn, we’ll get rich together,” added another, as if the early retirement plan was already assured.
And so, without knowing it, we sealed our fate. We left the administration with the illusion of someone who has just made a master investment and went to continue enjoying the trip.
The days passed and, as is my custom, the tenths remained in the deepest and most mysterious corner of my memory. Until one day, weeks later, my phone rang with a call that would change the course of my existence.
-WE’VE BEEN TOUCHED!
The emotion in my friend’s voice was so intense that I almost felt like I had a heart attack without going to the doctor.
-What do you mean, we’ve been touched?
-The tenths of Salamanca! We are not millionaires, but we get a hundred thousand eurazos, this is incredible!
And in that moment, in that millisecond in which my brain processed the information, my life changed.
I saw myself paying off all my debts at once. I saw myself not worrying about the month’s expenses. I saw myself traveling, buying whims without looking at my bank account. I saw myself, in short, being happy.
What I did not see myself, however, was with the tenths in my hand.
This is where the real story began.
The beginning of the tragedy
At first, I took it easy. Let’s see, the tenths can’t be that far away, I thought. I’m a mess, yes, but it’s not like I’m throwing important things down the street like a lunatic.
I started with the basics: the wallet. They were gone. Well, normal, there I only keep tickets for absurd purchases and a couple of loyalty cards that I never use.
Okay, next step: the jacket pocket. Nothing.
Car glove box. Less.
I looked in the backpack I went on the trip with. I took out everything: crumpled clothes, cell phone charger, a movie ticket I didn’t even remember buying. But the tickets were gone.
Gradually, anguish began to settle in my chest like a stone. He had to have kept them somewhere. They had to be at home.
And so began the demolition of my home.
I opened drawers with the desperation of a detective on his last case. I lifted cushions from the sofa. I reached behind the refrigerator, where I found only dust and a pen that was scary to touch.
Nothing.
I went to the car, where I disassembled what I humanly could. Drawers, floor mats, trunk, I even checked the spare tire compartment. I only found a lighter that I didn’t remember buying and a 20 cent coin that looked at me mockingly.
The tenths still did not appear.
I sat on the floor, sweating with despair and the absolute certainty that karma was playing with me in a big way.
The mockery of destiny
My friends, of course, were celebrating. They had gone together to collect their prize, sent photos of toasts and smiles. I had that money too. The only thing was… I didn’t know where.
I tried to remember. I made a titanic mental effort. Where did I put them? Had he given them to anyone?
And here comes an important detail: normally, I always give the tickets to Moi.
Moi, for those who don’t know him, is my lifelong friend, the one who owns the bar in Báscara square. I trust him 100%. Whenever I buy lottery, whether it’s Christmas, the blind man’s lottery or whatever, I pass it to him. He is like my personal bank of tenths.
But this time… I didn’t do it.
And that was already strange to me, because when I go on a trip, I ALWAYS give them to him. Something didn’t add up.
I called Moi, with the small hope that, in an act of involuntary responsibility, I had given him the décimos without remembering it.
-Hey, Moi… tell me you have my tenths.
-No, man, you didn’t give me anything this time.
-Sure, sure, very sure?
-Man, if I had won a hundred thousand euros, I wouldn’t be pouring beers right now.
Touché.
The sad outcome
Time passed, and the tenths never showed up.
My friends laughed at me for months (and still do). “It touched you too, but in a different way,” they tell me between guffaws. I put on a resigned face, but inside I’m dying.
To this day, every time I buy lottery tickets, I apply a strict security protocol:
- Photo of the tenth ticket at the time of purchase.
- Message to Moi with photo and number.
- Hand delivery, as soon as possible.
- Monthly review of your whereabouts.
Because, ladies and gentlemen, once was more than enough.
And the moral of this story is clear: opportunities come… but you have to know where to put them.
From MasTorrencito we wish you a good day and may your dogs be with you!!!!
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