The rain beats with terrible violence and the night dark cloud seems to want to crush a boulder as the small figure of exile Dante, who walks almost dragging the backpack last preparation second. Black is the atmosphere of that small town outside New York, a slight haze hours adorning the streets deserted. Black is the mood of the boy in his early twenties when his footsteps echoed along the street. silence reigns supreme tyrant and the bus terminal you increasingly visible. Dante stops and leans gracefully with little backpack on the bench covered.
"Half an hour to the next bus."
in deficit in its operations The streetlight blinking every so often with a faint sound of malfunctioning bulb. the eyes of a young man moves up to this, noting the slight flash. breathe deeply, leaned his elbows on his legs and lowers his gaze. he hates the mother is unable to react and hates his father absent and inebriated by the richness ...
"Good evening ..."
A voice interrupted his thoughts of the twenty-one that immediately raises the look. A man quite distinct, but as a normal physical appearance, standing out the front.
"It 's free?"
calls with grace and a slight smile, pointing to the other available seat of the bench occupied by Dante's backpack. The boy shall not respond immediately to move the luggage with a slight noise due to each object it contains. The distinguished man sits quietly and crosses one leg with the other. is visibly the other adult.
"How long before the first bus to New York?"
calls for the distinguished man moving his eyes on the boy, with a gentle, almost caressing voice, a voice that usually spurs to answer even the most frigid of unknown
"half hour ..."
Dante is expressed in a tone of voice influenced by a mood that does not bode positivon in his recent experience. separate the man watching him then, while taking a cigarette in his pocket.
"It 's happened to me."
"What?"
The Fugitive laying eyes on man noticed a distinct end beard on his face while this satisfies
"escape."
slight smile that is shown with a disarming security. The rain continues to beat violently on the roof that shelters the bench. looks like Dante is wet, while the man is distinct dry and clean as well as enthralling. Remain to look for long moments as if to share something implicit.
"John."
The distinguished man stretches out his hand towards the boy, a tapered hand, almost perfect except for a scar near the thumb, which makes feature. the boy looks for a moment and then extends his more youthful and untouched
"Dante."
close is sealed and then slowly dissolved. the distinguished man lights a cigarette and slowly exhale the smoke.
"What are you doing on a bus to New York?"
The sound of her voice almost lost in the noise of the rain is so light. the boy now looks down and fiddles with one of the straps of the backpack.
"Escape ... Whatever it takes."
Answer Man gaze on the young and gives a slight smile and full of understanding.
"I understand."
After the screams of his wife beaten by her father Dante were not a mystery to the neighborhood but did not dare to call the police, fearing repercussions against their people. The rain continues to fall rumbling rods and the landscape of a thick layer of water. Soon the bus is the appearance on the road with their headlights on one of which deficitante and a roar of motor capable of waking the neighbors. The distinguished man stands up and points out the bus arrives, then the ground and takes a step to the side, waiting. Dante takes his rucksack filled on his back and puts it forward. When the driver approaches, a mountain of water falls on the guy who finds himself almost to the ground for the coup.
"Fuck!"
more wet than before, is to get up completely soaked. The adult looks at him with a slight smile and with great agility that is still human, takes off his jacket and gave it to dry rests on the shoulders, meeting the gaze of Dante closely
"It happens all too much."
holding his hands on his shoulders positioned to the side of the boy a little lower than he
"Water slows the clothes they wear, but a burden makes us stronger, does not it?"
Smiles watching from the corner of the eye. Dante is watching it all the time with her face toward him. We prove an ominous admiration.
"Yes .."
Does not feel that he was right and then wordlessly. The man nods in happy face, but without excess.
"If you want to get ahead, not bring obstacles to reach your end ..."
The plump man of the bus, with a shirt that leaves much to guess what he ate for dinner, opens doors and something in the direction of the two verbs, but the words are not heard much from Dante, who has the 'attention focused about John. which makes him slightly with the left-handed.
"Go."
Dante nods and looks away, taking his backpack soaked hours on the ground and starting to climb the stairs that give access to coaches.
"Boy, where are you going?"
Dante pulls a few coins from his pocket and hands it to the fat slowly given the size
"New York ..."
Pay and then passed the driver compartment, is positioned on the first available seat watching the entrance. But there is no distinct trace of man, not yet rose. So he leans a little as the automatic doors are closed with a slight squeak left. She bites her lower lip and sits in its place is not without questions in my head.
After long moments of doubt and forget Dante clings stylish jacket in a solitary John Dorian, had given him.
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