Post by account_disabled on Dec 11, 2023 2:48:35 GMT -3
The police had notified the office and the office had a letter of dismissal delivered to Magnani's home. He sat on the sofa. The clock on the wall, without the protective glass anymore, showed 1pm. Remo was hungry, but he didn't have lunch. He cried in silence, while outside the world went on anyway. He woke up in the middle of the afternoon. He went down to buy something at the supermarket, came home, sat in the kitchen thinking. Tomorrow he would buy a classifieds newspaper, he told himself. He would find a new job soon. Tomorrow. At 8pm he prepared food and had dinner. Then she went into the living room, took a book and tried to read a few pages.
However, she couldn't concentrate, her mind wandering to memories of the last few days. "There was no one at home?", they asked him for the umpteenth time at the police station. And then Remo tried to tell Phone Number Data everything, choosing his words carefully. He had talked about the out of place objects that he found, the doors that opened and closed by themselves, the television that suddenly turned on and off, like the lights. Of the objects he had seen floating in the air. "You've had a bad experience, Mr. Magnani," was the inspector's simple reaction. Maybe they were used to hearing stories like that. Senseless stories. After an hour he had read maybe two or three pages. She closed the book and stood up to put it back on the bookshelf. The television turned on. Remo turned around suddenly, but there was no longer a TV in the house, he hadn't bought it back.
And in fact there was nothing on the furniture. I imagined. My nerves are still shot, she told herself. The lights flashed like a crazy traffic light. It's nothing, she thought. One contact, one failure. She'll come down and take a look at the meter. He took the house keys, grabbed the door handle and was thrown to the floor, as if someone on the other side had wanted to force his way in. There's no one there, get up. Remo stood up with a grimace. Get out. Get out of this house. No, he didn't want to listen to his conscience. Get out, this isn't your home anymore. "This is my house!" he shouted. He tried to calm down, hoping no one had heard him. He approached the door again and was again thrown away, as if he had been a rag. The phone rang. Remo tried to get up.
However, she couldn't concentrate, her mind wandering to memories of the last few days. "There was no one at home?", they asked him for the umpteenth time at the police station. And then Remo tried to tell Phone Number Data everything, choosing his words carefully. He had talked about the out of place objects that he found, the doors that opened and closed by themselves, the television that suddenly turned on and off, like the lights. Of the objects he had seen floating in the air. "You've had a bad experience, Mr. Magnani," was the inspector's simple reaction. Maybe they were used to hearing stories like that. Senseless stories. After an hour he had read maybe two or three pages. She closed the book and stood up to put it back on the bookshelf. The television turned on. Remo turned around suddenly, but there was no longer a TV in the house, he hadn't bought it back.
And in fact there was nothing on the furniture. I imagined. My nerves are still shot, she told herself. The lights flashed like a crazy traffic light. It's nothing, she thought. One contact, one failure. She'll come down and take a look at the meter. He took the house keys, grabbed the door handle and was thrown to the floor, as if someone on the other side had wanted to force his way in. There's no one there, get up. Remo stood up with a grimace. Get out. Get out of this house. No, he didn't want to listen to his conscience. Get out, this isn't your home anymore. "This is my house!" he shouted. He tried to calm down, hoping no one had heard him. He approached the door again and was again thrown away, as if he had been a rag. The phone rang. Remo tried to get up.