A strange noise was heard outside, maybe a gunshot or a painful screaming of a miserable soul. I’m sitting on my armchair in my apartment, drinking a whiskey with no ice, doing something to kill my agony, trying to shut up the voice of my conscience that accuses me every day. That noise was so unfair breaking into the night, tearing the silence, a noise so clear I could swear it didn’t came from outside, smelling a coughing smoke, sitting on my armchair in my apartment, in one hand a cup with your blood in the other hand a gun …. It is so clear now, I loved you so much I couldn’t resist, now I can see your head everyday on the wall of my apartment.
