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A man walked about the station carrying a heavy box: a job.
It was just what he should think, it was a job and nothing more.
To repeat it was his mantra, but every time he had imagined about the power inside that box and what his services caused, he thought about if that money would be worth.
He owed some million Euros for the Russians... Although he did not want, he needed to accept this job to pay them, or, well... The Russians would do what they knownwell how to do with him.
“Rather them than me” – He repeated until it become a mantra – “Rather them than me...”
***
The man with the mustache rose his eyes to the clock that blinked in front of him. Thirteen minutes left.
“I know Darling, I will solve it as soon as possible.” – Said him while he drank a cup of coffee. –“It is time to go, I need to turn off, love you.”
He put the phone and checked the clock in front of him with a golden watch that he took out of his waistcoat pocket. They were synchronized.
He liked his life in this way.
And his life was this way.
Each thing in its right time, and everything in a determined order. Was there anything better? Synchronicity was his favorite word, his personal neologism.
He put his watch into the right pocket of his waistcoat, checked the pen in the left pocket of his coat and put his haton.
Took his white handkerchief out of his pocket and polished his nameplate:
