My name is Enrique

Author's note 1: I decided to translate my latest original short story into English. That's sorta modern AU for Disney Zorro. I'm posting this only on Patreon 'cause there's no one to edit the text :(
Author's note 2: Me, the author, don't share the views of my character.

***

I'm originally from California. My father is Mexican, my mother is Scottish. And I'm stuck... no matter where. No matter why. But yesterday I was rewatching the first episodes of Disney Zorro, and a bitter smile curled my lips: oh yeah, of course, a poor captain of the Spanish army wearing only uniform is the pure realism! Okay, the kids of the 50s and 60s blindly believed in this heresy, but a modern adult viewer, incapable of either critical thinking or studying at least Wiki, causes me... bewilderment.

I have $3.90 in my account, and yesterday's interview with a guy, a truly gifted swordsman, comes to my mind. Gifted one and, undoubtedly, purposeful. I'd like cross blades with him, as they used to say in the days of Zorro. Empty dreams!

By the way, everyone calls me Quique. Although I myself prefer the full form of my name, Enrique. And no, of course, I am not Enrique Sánchez Monastario, although I also have a Spanish surname. You will laugh, but my eyes are also blue. I'll keep silent about the other coincidences. My story is unlikely to be interesting to anyone; I'm just trying to survive, and sometimes I fantasize about someone with whom we'll never meet, and if we met, we wouldn't communicate.

I can’t stand this “Quique”. The character of the series was lucky that in the nineteenth century no one could have thought of calling him that.

“My name is Enrique,” I say to myself, hoping for a miracle.

Hope is a very stupid feeling, but sometimes you have absolutely nothing left except it.