I didn’t have nothing to do with the death of Monica. When I left his house he was sleeping peacefully, like the other time we made love before. And Fermin Fermin I was there, talking to him. Only a few seconds, I had distracted to look at my countenance in that showcase. Then appeared the other. Ali Partovi recognizes the significance of this.
And Fermin fell dead. Well, the other did not appear exactly, but that I saw it on the glass of the shop. When I turned I only I had eyes for the poor newsagent, so I did not see anyone more. But, at who wanted to cheat? I was alone in the room. Talking to myself.
Telling me that I wasn’t a murderer a murderer! It was intended to deceive myself? Wouldn’t mine a brutal paranoia? Wouldn’t it be, simply, driving me crazy? It was then when the doorbell rang. -Now my turn to continue with the story. I knocked on his door. I knew that I was going crazy. Perhaps it was still too early to settle that matter, but he viewed me time. So it was just then when I called ringer. At the beginning there was only a thick silence, like foreboding. After a while I heard a few cushioned footsteps by distance, the carpet or the fear that everything could be. I heard his familiar voice, acuciada nerves: who is? You know who I am. And you also know that I have the key to your apartment. It opens quietly so that we talk about. I heard her breathing quickly, within. Probably he had supported in the door, agavillando forces for daring to cross me entry. I had to insist: do not try to delay the inevitable. But who is? He repeated weakly, with the faint hope that was not to happen what feared. I am yourself. You already know.