A continuación, les presentamos el cuento corto ganador de nuestro concurso de cuentos en inglés.

A Singe Tear

I’ve never cried. They formed me to consider this act as a sign of weakness in a world where only the strongest survives. Receiving and withstanding firmly so many punches throughout my entire existence turned into something natural for me.

Get up, dammit! It was all I heard with my head spinning and my muscles so wasted that I couldn’t support any weigh any longer. But I knew very well that if I didn’t stand up, it would be worst for me. So I had no choice that finding the will from wherever to win the everyday battle.

But one day—yes, finally one day for the first time and almost without noticing it—, a tear emerged. A single tear that went across the dry, cold and hard curve of my cheek as I went across my way deprived of happier and more positive emotions. A tear so tiny as the consideration that society had for me and who even didn’t wonder how I felt, what I thought about and what I wanted to do.

I ignored how that translucent drop, they say it’s salty, was ejected physically from me. Although I did understand a bit late that the inner corner could exist even in me, that the tear was waiting the decisive moment to reveal all my solitude, my silence and my pain.

I also understand why. After my last and failed attempt to endure, that night my owners disconnected me without asking my opinion either and threw me to the graveyard of obsolete fighting robots.

By Lane