burning templation

I put the last tray of the night under the kitchen table and took a deep breath.

background. It was already dawn and my body was asking for a bed and rest with urgency. I took off my apron and grabbed the bag with my name on it and the leftovers from the dinner provided. It would be my first meal after long hours.

I'm working at a buffet on the weekends to support my extra bills lately. It hasn't been easy keeping my routine as a violinist with the Chicago Philharmonic Orchestra during the week and have strength to smile and wave through endless parties and fine cocktails

on weekends.

- Hey Kate, here's your money. I call you during the week to confirm the schedule of events next week. – Andy, the manager from the buffet, he said as he handed me the envelope.

I smiled slightly as I finished tucking my bag in

my back.

- Thanks Andy.

- Go straight home girl, you look like you've been hit by a bus.

- Thanks for raising my self-esteem Andy. you look great too after seven hours on your feet. - I started towards the back door.

kitchen. - Bye, see you next week.

I got a taxi just around the corner, the only luxury I allowed on the weekends thanks to my tight budget, and I closed the eyes for a moment allowing all the weariness of the week to take over.

take care of my body. A twinge in the back of my neck reminded me that my next headache would not be long in coming.

It had been six weeks since my diagnosis and I was still struggling against him.

“Kate, I'm so sorry, but you have a brain tumor. It's inoperable. ”

That's what the first doctor to diagnose me told me. and also the three others that I have visited in recent weeks. It was the same thing, just with

some different words. I had gone home every time with the insistent tears down my face and a stubbornness in accepting what everyone those professionals had told me. I went to the hospital two weeks ago because of a very strong headache that the medicines at home

they weren't noticing. It was then that the doctor on duty referred me to the only neurosurgeon in Chicago who might be interested in my case.

The problem was that the health service would not cover this consultation and the extra weekend money would be destined for one thing: a appointment next Monday.

It was my last hope I felt the car stop and opened my eyes to see my building up ahead.

I paid the fare and started up the steps like a robot. I lived in a charming historic building in West Town, a few few doors and no elevators, but nothing took away my charm for

that place. I started to climb the stairs to the second floor when the clatter of bracelets and a thin heel rose behind me.

- You look like an old lady going up slowly like that.

It was Amber, my neighbor. Our doors were facing each other and we always had time for a little gossip and coffee.

- It's almost three in the morning Amber, anyone coming homebat that time you have the right to walk at the pace of the elderly. what are you going up the stairs in that violent way?

- My shoes are killing me! -She said as she looked at the foot.

- Have you thought about taking them off?

- They're too wonderful for that.

- Are you sure they're worth the pain? Her foot looks a little swollen...

- They're worth a life, Kate. Look at that amazing red sole and tell me aren't they wonderful?

- Oh my God, this is...

- Yes, Christian Louboutin is at my feet. - She said proudly as he continued up the steps beside me. - I won in the week passed from an old man.

“Amber, get away from me. I'm too underdressed to stay close to it. - We started laughing.

I got a good look at Amber in her long, tight evening gown.