Translation of "Una historia doméstica" by Ginés Cutillas

A domestic story

Discovering the plants was strange but pleasant when all is said and done. I always thought my bachelor’s studio could use a feminine touch.

It was less pleasant when I found used tampons in the bathroom wastebasket. Not because it was an odd place to find them – I wouldn’t want my words to offend anyone – but because I lived alone and, as far as I knew, without a stable partner or any other kind, for that matter.

It was rather disturbing when the wall color changed from one day to the next, but I quickly got used to it. It gave the apartment a certain warmth.

Soon, the furniture changed positions. That bothered me. Nevertheless, I had to admit there was a certain logic in the new distribution. A new shower curtain followed, a rug in the living room, blinds on the windows, new dishes, but also long hairs in the shower, piles of panties in the drawers and items from a makeup kit scattered all over the house.

When I started to wonder what to do with the intruder, the romantic dinners began. I got home from the office and all I had to do was sit and enjoy the music, the candles and the exquisite dishes I had no idea that my precarious kitchen was even capable of producing.

In gratitude, I began to leave sweet notes on the refrigerator and roses on the pillows, which later appeared in vases.

I work. She takes care of me. I’m sure we're the envy of all the neighbors: they’ve never heard us argue.

I don’t know her. And I think it’s better that way.