A man, a person like many others. One who wakes up in the morning, drinking coffee, brushing teeth, greets his wife with a kiss and crosses the threshold of the house to go to work. Does the employee and is diligent, his work plays with precision. It is a middle-aged man with no crickets in my head goes to the sea holiday with his family, playing on the beach with her two children 10 and 7 years. After his day back home, ribacia his wife on the front door, hugs his kids and asked how they spent their day. Later will take a look at their tasks. Cleverly sits on the very same black leather lounge chair in front of the fireplace. It is January and it's cold in the city. Reading the newspaper, the eye falls casually on the page of crime. There is talk of suicide. It seems too far from his thoughts. Dinner is ready. He sits at the table after you have washed your hands. He thanked his wife for dinner. Back to his chair, reading the last pages and the eye falls on the obituary page. With a nod to turn the page. Kiss the children and goes to bed, there on the table waiting for her book started a few weeks. See now, 22:41. Still does not know the meaning of those numbers. Night man!
A woman. A lady in one piece, the mother of two children. One of those women who wakes up in the morning, prepares breakfast for her children and her husband, Rehabilitation Order bedroom of his children by the hand, say goodbye to her husband and goes to school. Has the look of a proud mother. Given the recent recommendations to their children, watching them from inside his car go hand in hand towards the entrance of the school. Go to the market, does the shopping. Back at home, cleans it from top to bottom. Look, like all women her age, the soap operas of the early afternoon commenting on the alleged actions "facts" in the screen suggests the front of his salad and glass of mineral water half full. Later, as always, ready and punctual as a Swiss watch before he goes to school, finds her children and watching them with eyes full of joy and pride, as if not seeing them years, as if he were returning from some kind of business. Talking a bit 'with a little one' with each other. Back home, stretch and in the meantime, watch TV or listen to radio. Does not sing. He wants to maintain a certain linearity in front of children. Think about dinner. He greets her husband, gives him his slippers and locks herself in the place where he spent more time per day, the kitchen. Is pleased with herself when dinner is welcome. Last his affairs before going to sleep, watch TV and a hint of whether he goes to bed after putting her children to bed. Night to you woman!
Two parallel existences. Two lives seemingly without problems. God only knows how much this monotony can damage physical and mental health of these two individuals. No attention. Cold contacts. Mechanical actions. Lack of desire. Everything is well planned and almost meaningless. What kind of life is this? Not a smile, not a caress, it was a tear of joy. Only and always the same consistency in doing everything. It is a small lapse in concentration, a slight change in this empty repetition can trigger reactions senseless and totally irreversible.
Solita morning a few months. She did not sleep all night, he was late to work this morning. She is strange to read too much. He races against time and against the wrath of his boss, as well as against his distinguished record of timely and accurate worker. You strange, pale, and with a blank look (as well as his days) takes the children to school. He is slow to work. Arrive half an hour later, never happened during his entire career, except when the biggest of her children had a severe attack of appendicitis. That day, the gap seems to be something for no reason, and unjustifiable. She sleeps all day until the afternoon, even the mundane daily appointment with the American soap was unable to move. It should be to find the children with the same blank stare and sleepy; not stretch more but not turn on the radio. He does not come home that night. He went in the first little bar around the corner and think and rethink what has become of his life. She does not care about this strange delay, indeed, it seems almost relieved that her husband will retain more than expected outside the home, even late at night she thinks and thinks about what his life and cry, cry so much, sobbing like never before. That's a typical evening, said the balance can become monotonous in the deepest traps without ever getting out. She falls asleep on the couch that night with red eyes and tears. He looks forward. Le 22:41; almost as if there is a chance that tremendous and fills another glass. Drunken sleep in the car that night.
The monotony breaks the pseudo equilibrium. You into a vicious cycle of mechanical factors that are unlikely almost to make you smile. Everything becomes so extremely shallow that it is impossible to get out without at least one broken bone. Breaking that will be impossible to heal.
She wakes up with a tremendous presemtimento but decides not to indulge in that rainy morning a month to one year in a season. It is determined in what he does. He takes his stuff, he takes his children, destroys that reminds her of time spent with the man in that house that seems narrow and that life lived in these illogical. A last look at the photos depicting the happy family, all of a sudden a bang and the picture falls to the ground is falling apart and are reduced to tiny bits sharp just as he had already reduced the life of the woman. Since then only sounds: the keys to turning angrily in a bolt, the engine of a car crazy, the silence left by the void of the house of a life gone.
He wakes up in a suburban motel that day, probably around six o'clock in the afternoon. His life has lost regularly. Beard a few weeks, maybe a month. He shakes, he is afraid to anger them. Perhaps agitation. Cena.Poi usual at the usual time it takes a handful of tobacco, turns the 'last' cigarette. Then you put in front of the opaque mirror of that stupid little hotel in the suburbs. You watch. You wan, pale, you could see the anguish in his eyes. Test disgust and worth watching. Suddenly think the only thing that could save him from further recede in that moment, looks like a flash, a kind of epiphany last drag on his cigarette, throws it on the carpet filthy dell'ostelletto from peanuts. He grabs his coat, car keys and the car in gear. Directed towards that direction with his eyes full of hope. For a moment the light comes back alive in his eyes. Arrived. Turn the key in the lock of the door. He has only to look for a moment that the terrible scenario unfolding before to withdraw from all his hope. It was then that he made his life a huge pleonasm. Was still devoid of imagination and fantasy. All the bloody wounds day of the bloody years of that horrible season at 22:41, caused the death. And her life now as its existence was shattered like the picture of a happy family and monotonous city a few hours earlier had marked its end. Two days later on the same page of that newspaper that read months ago sitting in his comfortable armchair in black leather is about him.
