Sotiris reached his apartment,opening it's door with a stridor,he walked inside and fell in his couch in what seemed to be an immediate action.He rested his neck there for a couple of seconds looking at the ceiling before coming back to reality to take off his shoes. He got up tired and slightly annoyed,he got a snack and sank into his armchair, Sotiris liked writting small stories,not always from real life,most of the times something in between,now he had a lot of ideas and was ready to write another one. He ended his snack, washing his hands afterwards, he took some small papers he had with notes on them and put them on a small table near his armchair, and basically everywhere he could find a comfortable place,he took his paper, a book to put the paper on and his pen:

" Hail

He was the son of an angel,as we all were whilom. Like the other boys,he grew up in the sandlot. Besides,since he was little he was left orphan from a father. The streets showed him and tought him what the things are and how they are done. Hardworking,his job was the reason why he was surviving. He had a sister,he greatly admired her and a mother who he honoured however he could. His brow was always facing the sky and all the neighborhood greeted him with happiness when he walked past them. He just had one weakness,he liked to toke up,the neighbors often saw him tryin' to get tatered, he was filling guilt, first towards him mother and the departed man. Because of that he made a deal with some two men that sold him often, he ordered enough tea to make it for the whole winter and even treat some. The days passed and his thing arrived,there was just one problem, he didn't had racked up the moolah to give 'em, and since he didn't went to the place of their meeting they went to find him 'n get the money for their work. Outside of his house they started making troubles,his mother and his sister lived through the terror, they threatened them from the road and banged their doors demanding that he gets out,but he was working,he wasn't there. When he got back his mother told him that they humiliated him in the small neighborhood frustrated. He could not accept such behaviour, he maybe had regretted his decision but it's now way too late.

The next day he went to the known lair,in the flatlands,in a shanty here he knew the deals were made,to give what he owed and take what he ordered, he no longer wanted give n' take with these men, they weren't friends, and since they weren't friends, they were enemies. He had a two meter body,he was brave man he had nothing to fear. The other two were nothing in front of him,this is why when he walked in they were holdin' guns.

"What the fuck are the things?!WHO DO YOU THINK I AM?In my mother and my sister you want to act like brawlers?!"

As you'd imagine they didn't talk for long, he angrily charged towards the one man and steals his piece, the other man could not arm, he was shivering in horror seeing what was happening, he threw his gun down and run for his life, he had to notify his people, he could not let him escape in any way...BAM BAM! two on his neck. The next day the papers talked about how the one was found dead while the other is fighting death on his hospital bed because of the beating, they said it was for the settling of accounts and that the cops knew who. And now you may wonder how the times changed,one moment he is the good-guy and then a double murdered, but the road doesn't make you walk, you walk and there are some roads where there is no turnin' back.

Where he now goes many things await him, many things happen, but are kept secret, and what happens inside the gate does not go outside, but behind the gate the news travel quickly. Every move he did was thoughtful and careful, a whole crew is seeking revenge. And he knows, if he is put in a tight place someone gets wiped out, it's either them or he. And only he now knows how many have tried, but every time he survives and every time his fate pulls him deeper, the two lives he had heard about have now become seven,seven lives in this nightmare, the outside world seems like a child-dream and his mind writes different scripts about this old day, but imagination cannot fool his memory.

Because the direction of the clock cannot change.Because after the rain comes the hail.Because the "little-by-little",little-by-little becomes a lot, because moment by moment a life gets wasted."