E 'in September and I want to change a little' tone than small excerpts published until now. We place the beginning of a story to which I am dedicated, but not know if I'll never see the end, as all others in the rest :)
The last drops of rain fell on the old neon sign that a flashing light, illuminated the dark night in Oslo.
between the cracks left by the pregnant black clouds gradually pushed by the wind could be seen some crevice of heaven, and from there, the old moon, in a desperate rush narcissist, he tried to be reflected in the puddles, illegitimate daughters of the rough road in front of the bar .
Behind the door creaking of local spread uniform artificial lighting of the lamps and the old and constantly dripping dirty stapler. The old
Yksel not lend even care: throughout the bar, not only the stapler, it was going to hell, but it was old and approaching the time for him to shut up shop. He thought that
one of these days it was decided not to raise the damper more, without notice. He had no debts to pay, nor particular affection for its existing customers and by no means he would miss the place that had gnawed away his youth at first and then swallow the whole of life.
Suddenly, for a moment, the door creaking stopped, then opened and a dark figure appeared on the threshold white-skinned, almost corpse, wrapped in a trench coat, shiny. The light reflected
the Child and the hat that was equal to feature in a strange game of illuminating the darkness.
"Good evening, gentlemen," he said, with a shrill voice that crossed the lips contracted into an evil smile. The few customers
silent for a moment and looked at the stranger for a moment and then ignore it.
was of special services. Yksel had heard, of altrocanto became increasingly known for their cynical ruthlessness, even now that if they find one before it seemed odd that it was the first time in so many years.
Until that moment he felt a sort of fear towards that paramilitary intelligence, if it can be defined, but now that he saw one of them with their own eyes, despise the word that was more suited to his feelings.
"Good evening," replied the old man, almost without an alarm, while tidying up the glasses and sat down at his interlocutor if one be stool in front of him. The dark
visitor put his hat on the counter, and looked up Yksel, so perhaps trying to gain the attention they deserve.
The old man placed both hands and leaned forward slightly, as if waiting for an order.
The other showed him a picture: a young man was taken by the Soviets.
"His name is Andrey Pavlov, of Soviet origin, has landed a few days ago in Helsinki and now we have more than a suspicion that you are here in our country"
Yksel Moreover, not understanding why he was angry and decided to ignore the authority before him
"Do not I need help bartenders, "said once again devoid of tone, returning to do his job
" Do not make the useless irony, could cost you "froze the other, then, trying to regain a semblance of subtle, treacherous calm, went
"He happened to see around here? Look, the photo "
" No, I am sure, I've never seen, is so rare to see foreigners in this place that reminded me I would definitely "She heard the light, without note in the old minimum interest nor towards him, nor even to the photos. But the response seemed sincere and seemed to satisfy him.
"Well, if there no later to inform me "and said that he left a business card on the counter, put on his hat and waved
" Dear Goodbye "
" And do not drink anything before you go? "replied the old ostend a false hospitality, perhaps the taste of tap some money to the government
"I can not while on duty" was heard in response to an item that already came from the street.
"Hey old man, you're getting famous, you must have done it to attract attention government, "cried one of the customers and everyone else laughed.
Yksel darkened, the times were about to change, I felt inside, like a curtain of dense fog.
He put the ticket away without giving it some eyes and dropped into the chair if one be lighting a cigarette.
