bok

restaurant is that a little house that’s across the street from it caught my eye
since the day I went over for the interview. It was a small wooden house
that adjoined with estates full of horses and cattle. The nearest neighbors
were far off and when the restaurant closed the little house was isolated.
There was someone living there but something told me that I’d live there
soon. When I told my boss and co-workers that soon that would be my
house they simply laughed.
After a few weeks I still hadn’t heard from any of those people I had
reached out to. Business at the Tamarindo was booming. I’d be a liar if I
said whole UFO thing didn’t bring me clientele. Mr. B started to harass me
again. The only things he talked about were my pictures and money. His
real intentions were so obvious that it was shameful. He completely lost
sight of everything. His desire for wealth had spoiled his mind. He insisted
in trying to orchestrate my life: how to talk, how to dress, who to talk to
and who to not. He was really starting to cross the line.
When he spoke to others he referred to me as ‘his case’. He thought that
my pictures, the negatives, and even I belonged to him. He really went to
far when he told me that he didn’t want to see me with homosexual people
because this would undermine my credibility.
According to Mr. B being homosexual makes one a liar. If this is so then
I’m the biggest liar in the world. He tried to forbid me so many things that
it would be absurd to name them here. Many times he spoke about my
credibility and how I should correctly present myself to people. If for
people to believe in my experience I’d have to become something I am not,
I prefer that no one believe a single word.
104