Status: Ongoing, short chapters
Sweet Lover
uno
August 8, 1989
Catalina rapped her tiny knuckles on the wooden door next door she could now memorize. She was a welcomed guest there, and she accepted their hospitality as a mere sweet five year-old.
Today was to be a very special day in that small neighborhood in Fuenlabrada, Madrid. It was the day that her neighbor, Fernando José Torres Sanz, was to try out for the Spanish football team Parque 84. Catalina didn't know much about futbol, but she could easily tell that Fernando possessed a one-of-a-kind talent. She was most definitely proud of her friend.
The door swung open, and she was welcomed by the warm face of Flori Torres, his mom that loved her oh-so-dearly.
"Buenos días, tía Flori," she spoke sweetly in her tiny voice, causing a smile to spread on the older woman's glowing face.
Flori bent down to her height, engulfed her in a hug, kissed her chubby cheeks despite her giggles of protest, and swooped her inside, closing the door after her.
"Fernando is upstairs, my little one," she smiled, knowing that Catalina only wished to speak to him after his first training.
Little Catalina grinned as she tried to run up the red stairs as fast as she possibly could without her tiny legs failing her, her soft brown eyes twinkling as she burst through the door of the room she spent so many hours a day in. There, as predicted, she found her freckled friend dribbling a tiny ball around.
"Fernando," she squealed, causing the adorable little boy to run over to her, his tiny ball in hand.
His brownish-blonde hair flopped over his face, in bad need of a haircut. Catalina, on the other hand, liked it that way, and so he had no intentions of cutting it off anytime soon.
He gave her a toothy grin, "I suppose you want to ask how training went."
"Sí, tell me did you get that striker position?" she tried to use her little knowledge of the game.
He shook his head, "I tried out for goalkeeper instead," he stated, pulling out a yellow pair of keeper's gloves from his set of drawers.
Catalina seemed shocked, "But you like being a forward," she protested.
"Maybe I should follow in my brother's footsteps instead," he shrugged, "Israel was pretty good at it , so why shouldn't I?"
She cocked her head a little, her brown pigtails settled on the shoulders of her tiny Atlètico De Madrid jersey. Fernando shook his head, trying to end the conversation he didn't want to have and discuss his dreams.
Taking her tiny hand, he helped her up his small bed that held the Atletico crest.
"Let's watch the Atlètico versus Werder Bremen match instead," he smiked with twinkly dark eyes, his best friend nodding in approval, "Five euros on Baltazar scoring a hat-trick."
Catalina shook her head, "I bet on five too that he would score two, while Manolo scores the third."
"You're on."
Catalina rapped her tiny knuckles on the wooden door next door she could now memorize. She was a welcomed guest there, and she accepted their hospitality as a mere sweet five year-old.
Today was to be a very special day in that small neighborhood in Fuenlabrada, Madrid. It was the day that her neighbor, Fernando José Torres Sanz, was to try out for the Spanish football team Parque 84. Catalina didn't know much about futbol, but she could easily tell that Fernando possessed a one-of-a-kind talent. She was most definitely proud of her friend.
The door swung open, and she was welcomed by the warm face of Flori Torres, his mom that loved her oh-so-dearly.
"Buenos días, tía Flori," she spoke sweetly in her tiny voice, causing a smile to spread on the older woman's glowing face.
Flori bent down to her height, engulfed her in a hug, kissed her chubby cheeks despite her giggles of protest, and swooped her inside, closing the door after her.
"Fernando is upstairs, my little one," she smiled, knowing that Catalina only wished to speak to him after his first training.
Little Catalina grinned as she tried to run up the red stairs as fast as she possibly could without her tiny legs failing her, her soft brown eyes twinkling as she burst through the door of the room she spent so many hours a day in. There, as predicted, she found her freckled friend dribbling a tiny ball around.
"Fernando," she squealed, causing the adorable little boy to run over to her, his tiny ball in hand.
His brownish-blonde hair flopped over his face, in bad need of a haircut. Catalina, on the other hand, liked it that way, and so he had no intentions of cutting it off anytime soon.
He gave her a toothy grin, "I suppose you want to ask how training went."
"Sí, tell me did you get that striker position?" she tried to use her little knowledge of the game.
He shook his head, "I tried out for goalkeeper instead," he stated, pulling out a yellow pair of keeper's gloves from his set of drawers.
Catalina seemed shocked, "But you like being a forward," she protested.
"Maybe I should follow in my brother's footsteps instead," he shrugged, "Israel was pretty good at it , so why shouldn't I?"
She cocked her head a little, her brown pigtails settled on the shoulders of her tiny Atlètico De Madrid jersey. Fernando shook his head, trying to end the conversation he didn't want to have and discuss his dreams.
Taking her tiny hand, he helped her up his small bed that held the Atletico crest.
"Let's watch the Atlètico versus Werder Bremen match instead," he smiked with twinkly dark eyes, his best friend nodding in approval, "Five euros on Baltazar scoring a hat-trick."
Catalina shook her head, "I bet on five too that he would score two, while Manolo scores the third."
"You're on."