Kattalin has to celebrate her birthday in the piece of housing that has been restored in the center. He hasn't been around for a long time and he wants us all to look good with him.

I've decided to stay home, but I can't say that. Though ignorant people claim otherwise, a good friend must be lied to for the most part. On Monday they have to bleed me out (for something I don’t want to comment here) and I’m not very encouraging. It's good for me to stay calm in mine. If Ander went to the party, the psychic. I'd rethink it if Ander left. I would probably show up. But he is not on the confirmed list that Kattalin has added to the email.

For work reasons, I told him that I had to go to Logroño. I haven't been to Logroño in years.

I took great care in choosing the right words for the excuse. It has to look natural. Don't excuse me too much. Don't even inflate the Denominator. I remember the essay I read once, about the strategy of the liar, about the textual, vaporistic traces of the lies of the character Hemo of the Golden Donkey of Apuleius. The reader might know, by listening to the words, that Hemo is cheating, but the kidnappers don’t make it up. Lying is a matter of words, not imitation. The same irony (no pig has emerged that will find truffle or head-truffle to some self-proclaimed writers, until they themselves confess, outside of the text, of course). The ironic deliberately leaves traces. The liars seem to be unintentional. That’s why I pay special attention to writing. “Dear Kattalin,” I began.
I stayed home on Saturday. And on Monday, in the hospital, I just bleed, I found Kattalin in the cafeteria (he was in charge of the probable, which shift he was working on, because he works as a nurse). She tells me that they had a great time at the party, the party of Christ, that they missed me, to see how I was in Logroño. I had the impression that he asked me in a peculiar tone, with mockery. Do you suspect him?

I told him that due to the Actual festival I had to go to solve some management issues, the cultural supply and by the way Micah P. I stopped at the Hinson concert with some local friends. No more of that. We went for a walk earlier, yeah. Try the famous “tapas” of Campi on Laureal Street. One wanted to take the opportunity to buy some face creams at the Alcampo supermarket, with gold particles, very good, very cheap (nine euros!) They are also recommended by dermatologists. I feel like I'm talking too much, but it's Kattalin that's affecting me. He also asked me if I had been to the Paseo de la Espolón. I’ve been about to show a picturesque photo (made of the testicles of Franco’s horse), but I left the mobile at home. With a wicked smile, he asked me if I hadn’t seen Ander in Logroño. Because he went there on Saturday, the same day and the same concert. Excited (what to say now? ), I answered no. What brings you out of Ander now? Is it a trap? A lantern? What the hell was Ander doing in Logroño? !

The fact that I arrived late to the concert, and I didn’t even walk around the city too much, although I explained it, Kattalin’s apparent lack of belief is growing. What would Andy say? Am I lying to myself?

Finally, to end this torture, I have decided to take the shortest route:

“No more lies, Kattalin. I have something to confess to you.”

“...”

“In Logroño... it is... Andy and I... started walking together.”

“You didn’t have to say it. He’s already told me.”