So here's my attempt, once again, in Spanish (how I wrote it) and below, translated into English:
Ok scratch that, I just realized I can't copy/paste into this stupid blog. I'll just write it in English.
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He lived his entire life within four walls. He began to become aware of the walls while sitting in a chair within his office, which sat in the middle of a commercial street in the center of the city. This building looked like all the others: tall, made of straight lines, with a grid of mirrors that reflected the grid of streets and people below.
It was Wednesday, a day in the middle of a long and normal week. Behind one of the windows, he was seated as his desk. He had received a new project, from a habitual client. Using a calculator (although he had the ability to do the formulas in his head, his boss had imposed a work code that demanded the use of calculators), he passed the day finding and writing numbers on the pages, white squares full of numbers.
All of a sudden, he couldn't breathe. (This had occurred before, but in recent days with more frequency.) With an effort to fight off panic, he reached for his tie, to loosen it, although he knew that the strangulation came from something different, something bigger and darker, something that he would not be able to escape. The four walls of his office, white and tall, seemed to move in on him quickly, the door disappeared...
And suddenly, as quickly as the feeling had come, it left. With sweat on his upper lip and without a word, he returned to his work, until the day ended and he could leave with all the other workers, faceless in the darkness, the black walls of night replacing the white ones of the office.
He drove, walked, arrived at his apartment building. From outside it looked like all the others: old, but clean, with some windows illuminated creating a grid of light and darkness. The hinges on the front door had not been oiled for some time, and emitted a strange sound when pushed, punctuated by the sharp echo of his shoes against the floor. The lights of the elevator were broken, and within their glass box, flickered.
His wife had prepared dinner, like all the previous nights and all those that would pass, and when he entered the apartment, was already seated at the table. For the first time, he paid attention to the construction of the kitchen: small, with a very low ceiling (lower than he remembered), and only one wall had a window, also small.
That night, his wife rejected his new suggestion to eat outside, on the balcony, and later, rejected his sexual advances in the kitchen while leaning against the oven. So they made love, without interest nor passion, in bed, surrounded by four white walls of the canopy, made of fabric but in his mind, as strong as wood.
The daily rhythm continued, each day the same, identical and without end, like the numbered squares of the calendar that hung on the wall of his office. The attacks continued, and each time one occurred, he became aware of more and more walls that surrounded all parts of his existence: those in the movie theater, in the super market, in the hallways of the metro, each enclosed space smaller than the one before. Each night was also the same. He laid with open eyes, for many hours before falling asleep. And without time to rest his mind, began to dream, always the same. He is looking at a large space, large enough to be interminable, and at the center (if an interminable space can have a center), is a toy, like any child's toy. The toy is constructed like a square, painted with images from the city and from nature. It is playing music, squeaky and strange, and all of a sudden it opens with a "pop!", but instead of a clown jumping out, it begins to suck him in. He tries to fight it, but little by little loses, until...
One day, a Wednesday, after dinner, while the gas continued to fill and heat the oven, he put his head inside it. Inhaling freely for the first time, he realized that his death, like his life, would occur within four walls. His last breath was laughter.
Although he died with a smile, at the funeral (as the few attendants would later say), his open eyes seemed to be full of terror when they closed the lid of the coffin, terror for the realization that death, like life, is nothing more than an eternity within a box.
