The rain was falling outside when I got rid of the warmth of the bed and went to the window to light my cigarette.
I stare at the cold, ugly landscape outside my apartment as I prepare for another tiring day at work, assembling dishes in a crowded kitchen where orders seem to keep coming.
Making hamburgers isn't exactly the dream job neither what I planned for my life a few years ago but, well, a few years ago I was in crime, doing awful things.
The pay is decent and it's close to my house. I am aware that working doing what you like is an illusion when you are an adult trying to make honest money.
I find myself reflecting on the past since I got out of prison and decided to leave the life of crime behind. Sometimes I miss the adrenaline, the money, my brother with whom I had a complicated relationship.
Such thoughts have been plaguing me ever since I saw the announcement that he is now officially a wanted man in the newspaper, they are even offering a reward.
I hadn't seen his face for seventeen years and seeing him stirred many feelings that were dormant.
I can't say the same about the tortures, the deaths, the ugly part of it all.
I always come to the same conclusion that I made the right decision and was lucky to be able to leave that life behind, as many cannot. Since Mike and Angie couldn't... I inhale the nicotine that calms me down so much and helps me leave these distant thoughts at these times.
I furrowed my brows when my cell phone rang from where it was on the nightstand, I don't usually take calls.
The relationship I have with people at work boils down to this, work. And as for my love life, the most I have are casual sex with people I'll only see once in my life.
That sounds bad and I admit I've been living a lonely life since I got out of prison, but I don't see that as a problem. Something that is supposed to be seen as relieving like having friends or someone special is also a weakness, something they can use to hurt you, something that hurts like hell when you lose them so I'd rather not bother with it anymore, I'm better alone.
I put the cigarette between my lips and go to the device, checking the number listed as unknown. The thought of another annoying telemarketer almost makes me not answer.
— Hello? — I inhaled my cigarette but nothing could have prepared me for the person on the other end of the phone.
— Hello, little brother. — The voice that answered made my heart run cold and took me back to a cold December night and a conversation that was supposed to be peaceful but ended up being our last one.
The voice I hadn't heard in years.
My older brother's voice.
Obrigado pela leitura!
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