In 1978, a young woman, from Minas Gerais, an employee of Banco do Brasil, lived in Rio in a newly rented apartment on Ipiranga Street, at the corner of Conde de Baependi.
A rounded building on pilotis, with fences around the street, in Laranjeiras, it was about 8 PM, and she was already on the ground floor waiting for her boyfriend’s arrival, chatting with the doorman and another resident.
The orange VW Brasília arrived, with its two left wheels on the sidewalk, as was customary in Rio at that time. The doorman opened the gate, the young woman stepped out, walked around the front of the car, got in, and sat in the passenger seat. The two twisted their bodies toward each other and leaned in for the customary kiss.
When the young man turned his body forward and placed both hands on the steering wheel, he felt something poking his neck from the left side through the car window. He turned to see what it was and saw a double-barreled pistol being shown to him, which was immediately turned back toward his neck. In a quick assessment of the situation with his peripheral vision (military service had helped with that), he saw there were two assailants; while one held the doorman and the young woman at gunpoint, the other said to him:
“_ Hand over the jewelry.”
The young man only had an Omega Seamaster watch, bought in 1965 at the Omega factory in Switzerland, brought back by his parents from a trip to Europe on a Meliá tour that they indulged in. He handed it over. With great sadness, but he handed it over.
“_ The wallet! He handed that over too.”
And the double-barreled pistol pressed against his neck...
“_ This damn thing with the hammers pulled is going to go off by accident!”
The assailant then turned to the young woman, who, nervous, although not having a pistol at her neck, took her time removing her earrings and bracelet.
The other assailant, controlling the surroundings, apparently armed with a .22 revolver and seeming to have more authority than the one with the pistol, grew impatient with the delay and yelled at the young woman: “I don’t want costume jewelry; just give me the ring!”
And the young woman, “getting riled up”:
“_ This isn’t costume jewelry, sir!”
And the double-barreled pistol on the young man's neck began to tremble along with him. They were both laughing at the situation. Not both, everyone, except the young woman, still indignant at the affront.
With the ring handed over, along with the other jewelry, the two assailants hurriedly walked away, but not too quickly, in the opposite direction on Laranjeiras Street.
The rings were gone, but the necks and vanities remained.
They got married, had many children, and did not live happily ever after.
Miguel Fernández y Fernández, engineer and chronicler-narrator (the facts are real)
2528 characters, written in September 2024
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