the crazy 3 stared mesmerized as the number eight on the panel, pulsed with his red intense steadily, not at all similar to what I felt in my chest. As I climbed, the light of the plans leaked from the crack of the sliding doors, cutting the shape into two of the net. And if this time I had met her? As I had to do? If before I had the choice of the stairs, I was now trapped. A cockroach trapped in a corner, about to be killed from the tip of a woman's shoe. The elevator arrived on the eighth floor. Before the doors opened I saw a shadow. A dark skirt. The heart of force moved my Adam's apple and took his place giving me a strong feeling of suffocation
. The doors opened and
unwittingly, took a step back, ending up crashing into the wall behind me. I closed my eyes, I had the courage to look. I expected a cold hand and take the whitish throat and squeeze until I pass out, then let me disappear into thin air, as happened to other kids.
"Hello, Mario." The voice seemed familiar. I opened my eyes slowly and saw the emergence of front lady
Cicero: on an old seventies. Thin, with white hair, two ice-colored eyes and a smile that made me relax instantly. I sgonfiai like a balloon and I realized that, in addition to adhering to the wall behind me and with my eyes closed, I was even on tiptoe. I laid the heels on the ground and greeted Mrs.
Cicero.
"Hello, Mrs.
Cicero. "The lady came in and I
churches that plan to go. It turned out that both had to go on the ground floor. Mrs. crushed -
T - and stood by my side. A moment before he closed the elevator I noticed that the door of a
apartment was ajar. I immediately recognized the look of
Zahara and a lock of her long red hair coming out from the darkness of the opening, almost to want to grab, like the tentacle of a monster of the seas. We began to descend and Mrs. Cicero
began, as usual, talking about his youth. When he was a model. My mom and I went to visit her often, and each time he took out his old photo albums, which immortalized the
during the catwalks, commercials and short
appearances in low budget film. It was really nice to be young and, despite his seventy years, you could still feel, through his eyes and his smile, worn traces of her beauty. I waited for him to finish his speech (it lasted five floors) and then asked her to
Zahara. I thought, dwelling on the same floor, could have some
useful information, so that you know if there was to worry
seriously, or when I had taken for a ride.
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