A lost man
He was seen every day. Something was going on. He was usually alone in his chair. Maybe he was talking to himself. The biggest advantage of those who talk to themselves is that even in solitude, he was not alone because he had his world inside him. Volley was not so clear. Later, he turned his corner chair and began to sit on the floor. Of course, he was never in a hurry. He would look at the empty glass with a tuck. Khoi would look at the glass and look at the glass and say.
“Life, hope, and addiction always hurt!”
Fuchs, who lived in War, liked his sentences. Unconsciousness becomes darker, darker, and what is not visible becomes darker.
One day, Fuchs asked boldly
"Why are you always here?"
He turned the glass mechanically as usual, looking upside down. The yellow liquid inside the glass looked more open in the light. The table across the glass was also visible.
"Why are you always here?" He added question after question. The question sounds good. It is as if the question is full of confusion.
"I work here!" Fuchs gave a simple answer.
"I am and you have a job, what is your job without me?" How do you know I'm here for you? ” He laughed. Fuchs thought it was reasonable. Fuchs looked really small before his deep answer. He was short, unable to touch the heights of the North.
"But why alone?" Fuchs dug another dimension.
"Who is not alone here?" Freedom is alone, if someone is added, it becomes an agreement! ”
Fuchs was stunned. It was as if someone had lit a match in the middle of his question. In the rap of his answer, the questions seemed to burn to ashes.
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"I left you sugar, you are a writer, a great writer!" Fuchs happily told him. There was no change in his expression. No change in mood! What a dull face came to upset Fuchs. He took a cloth and started whisking the glass whiskey.
"A little more me, people you know!" He laughed. Fuchs dug a peg into his glass.
"Why did you stop writing?" Fuchs asked in disbelief.
"Can you feed me so much without paying?" He looked at the little one with insistent eyes.
Fuchs's heart sank. I have read two or three of his stories. Two or three songs are still playing in the market. Now he is looking at the little one with compelled eyes. What a world! Fuchs shook his head in acknowledgment.
"Only today! Don't ask from tomorrow! ” He defended himself. Fuchs said nothing.
"Now tell me, why didn't you stop writing?"
"How much I will sell before the world full of empty dreams!" He sighed loudly. It was clear that his bell was ringing.
"I love your dreams!"
"I have stopped understanding my pen, how do you like it?" He laughed again.
"Look, I'm reading the book you wrote!" Fuchs pulled out the book with a sigh!
“You're reading something you don't need! I write that two and two add up to five, you read! Who is a fool? ”
Little one, shut up! Gharra's book penetrated Gharra.
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Fuchs had heard a lot of gossip about him. Some rumors, some truths, but he had heard.
"It didn't work, I just wrote and stood up!"
"She ran away, she loved me so much, and she started drinking!"
"While searching for the subject of the new book, I wandered! ”
Etc. etc.
Today he was not surprised. Only news came. The car hit him on the way! He is in the hospital. Leaving the book he was reading, Fuchs went to see him. He was dead, he heard that the truck of the municipality took him somewhere without coming to pick him up. Even though he was reluctant, Fuchche returned to work. Asked the glass, and in his memory poured a peg of whiskey into the glass. And many looked at the glass. He opened the door and turned the book over. The last page, the page he has left to read
“Life, hope, and addiction always hurt!”
Finished