(...) And then, she walked down the stairs, barefoot, trying to evade the voices in her head. She willed herself not to feel guilty nor sad. Sighing, she closed her eyes for half a second and made up her mind.
She put her shoes on while freeing her face from her hair. And she ran. She ran until the air air from her lungs was no more. Until the ache built up to a point she thought her chest would explode. She stopped watching a girl stepping out of a carriage. Simply dressed. Neat and composed. She walked to her father, who was waiting across the street, kissed him on the cheek and toghether they went their way.
She closed her eyes chasing the memory away. She took three deep breaths. Lit a cigarette. Sat on the floor.
She wished she had some alcohol with her. If it was going to be worse from now on, she could do with some merryness. Even if it was a deluded face of happiness given by liquor.
'What a hell of a night!', she thought. And, as certain as the moon in the sky, she knew what had to be done. Which egos she would break. Which oaths would be proven to be sincere. Smashing the rest of the cigarette on the floor she stood up. Took five studied steps, and walked down the street. (...)
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