Epiphany - PrologueWhat if I say I'm not like the others?
The spare keys are in the usal place. I'm not. I climb the stairs, opening a door that's no longer mine. Inside there's fultiness. Evening filters through the half-closed blinds, discovering blank walls and empty furniture. I want to turn on the light, ma there's no power, it's disconnected. There are only plates and pots, no food. I open the tap, the water that flows is brown. I close the tap, disgusted. I'm going to cry, but I'm not doing it now. I open the tap again, waiting for the water to return normal, I'm so thirsty.
What if I say I will never surrender?
I grab my backpack, it's heavy, and I bring it in a bedroom that's no longer mine. There is only the mattress on the bed, there are not blankets, there are no pillows. Next to the bed, just cardboard boxes ready to be taken away. My computer isn't here anymore. Did you know what can happen if you put your wet swimsuit together with your clothes into a closed bag? Well, I need a washer. Nob