That Day…


That precise day of late winter she woke up with a strange feeling. Things went as usual throughout the day. In the afternoon, she went to her editor and while talking to him she received a phone call she was not expecting. She picked up the phone instantaneously knowing what was it about and told the woman she would ring her later. From that precise second she stopped listening to what the editor was saying. After one minute or so, she told him she had to go. She just remembered going to her car as if she were hypnotized. Got in, and dialed the number. She already knew but still hoped the awful feeling was not hers. The voice on the other side was screaming at her. ‘He’s dead!’ She hung the phone and started crying like mad. Fortunately, nobody was around though she simply didn’t care, in any case. Her old friend committed suicide. He did it, he dared. The nightmare question was there, in front of her eyes ‘how was she going to tell the kids about it without breaking their hearts?’ ‘You, Bastard! You go to Hell for this last bloody present!’ Could he hear her, was he sorry for what he did in a perfectly selfish way? She would never know

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