The stone hits the polished glass of the soul of a man dressed as a successful lawyer is lethal. Years of slow cooking, customs, security, nothing wrong, of moments lined up suddenly lost between the cutting edges of the web that a collision has drawn on the glass. The stone is a thin woman, blond-white sitting on a cot, tied to a drip hanging on a pole. The stone blocks the thoughts and the air seems to not want to enter the lungs of all present: the lanky lawyer, the cop bitter, the Director of jay to paura.Poi, as in every waking from a strange dream, a few syllables emerge: "Silvana ... are you?". The eyes are an identity card expired, but not false. The smile, or what seems a smile confirms. If the manager thinks we can not explain how a woman in those conditions was able to jump out of bed in the neck of the lawyer. He only knows that now the two hugged each other and looks amazed at the stupid face of the policeman with a hand gun in the holster. The director explains that pain is not unknown in the chest, like something heavy, metal, which sinks into the flesh and does not hurt, but gives weight to that which penetrates the blood that makes lead precipitates, coagulates, it stops. What you see is foreign to his mind, but perhaps it has heard some time in his life. The cop does not recognize the woman is not to come to his office months before. That was the number one public danger, This has short hair, thin arms and exudes dolore.L 'lawyer does not think, no more. Now there is George, and he lacks the strength to shake that memory that has arms. Only the smell is amazingly the same and is the smell that says that this is real, real, even the drip-drip that comes out of the southwest wind, which is waiting for his wife, who parked the car at 'corner of the court, this morning he woke up in a house where her children are asleep. But who cares now that the little hands of Silvana's shaking his cheeks? And if you kiss her? How important can have her life right now?
"Lawyer ... lawyer ...." The voice is the cop, but the face is that of a sorry existence. "Lady lawyer ... ... please ... we need to talk ... ... Mrs. De Stefani lawyer?"
Anger Forgot dating of the lawyer as vomiting, stomach kept for long, but Silvana's hands slipping from his face shaking his hands, guiding him toward the bed.
"Come on George, the Commissioner is here to talk ... we talk ...." The vomit returns home, still buried, perhaps forever. The lawyer anesthetized sits on the couch, holding hands with Ciccia and waits.
"Yes ... we are talking about."
director closes the door, leaving blood and his teeth to bite his lower lip as he passes in front of the warders at attention. The blood drip on the chin, and disappears into the shadows of a corridor, leaving behind the sound of footsteps and the footsteps of his aftershave from an official visit.
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