The alarm clock rang, as irritating as every morning. He didn't care about getting up early, but that unbearable sound in his ears made him angry. There was nothing he could do but turn it off and get up, it's not like he had enough money to buy another alarm clock with a less irritating alarm, he could half pay all the bills in his apartment. His phone didn't even have volume, it had broken a long time ago and he couldn't even listen to audio. His economic life was shit, but in part, when he had enough money to buy his whims, he only spent it on a pack of cigarettes or simply saved them to pay the bills that would come later.

Richard Kozłowski's life was very boring and stressful when he wanted it. Since he was little he has been miserable. His parents focused their love and affection on his older brother who, in addition to being a son of a bitch, was literally a bastard, and they loved him for being... Maybe for being outgoing, for being good at music, and... Honestly, He didn't have the slightest idea and wasn't interested in knowing specifically the reasons why his brother was better than him in some way. The last straw was that he truly got the best grades in school and had a brighter future than his brother, who ended up being run over by an ex; it was an accident, not an attempted homicide. The woman was leaving for the shopping center, she ran over him in reverse and at first thought it was a cow. He was horrified to see his ex's smashed head in the tires of his car, then he must have celebrated because they did not end on good terms, but at the trial he proved to be innocent.

Chatting aside, Richard is already in the kitchen of his house drinking tea. He thinks about his future, which he already has perfectly planned. He's already saved enough money to buy his own house and pay for his law studies, being an accountant was boring shit. He wanted to study law so he could run for a fucking president with the attitude of a dictator, not be a boring accountant who struggled with accounts. In Poland, the profession of accountant was highly revered, but in the United States things were already changing. Having to live as an accountant was complicated, working almost twenty-four hours with extreme care with each paper and ending up returning home with thirty thousand bills to pay was shit. He remembers that, when he was little, his mother always thought he would be the family's salvation. He believed that evading him with his desires and pressuring him about school would make him mature quickly, but it was the opposite, or a path much more complex than that was formed. From a very young age Richard had in mind that he had to escape the country, mainly his home, and never return for his parents. He wished his family would die before him, so he could spit on every grave and despise them until his last day on earth. He was a little childish and supernaturally evil, but he has suffered his entire childhood from abuse by his family. What did you expect? That he would forget everything overnight and welcome them into a nice big home for everyone? Pff, no way.

He was never going to forget those memories that became traumas. Not having any friends, he had to isolate himself, and his parents saw no better solution than to treat him as if he were a strange monster and remind him of it every day. He could have been sent to some sport when he was young to meet more people, but noo, his parents wanted him to be a monster, a weirdo, a lonely ogre in a cave all his damn life, and they achieved it. They sent him to play sports as a teenager, surrounded by guys who had already trained and met each other as children. It was so damn uncomfortable that his anxiety went through the roof and his panic crossed to such a point that he had several attacks, although they weren't new to him. The attacks he had were received with contempt from his mother, she solved everything with screams and blows, he even once felt afraid of spilling a little liquid from his glass and ended up locking herself in the closet so as not to feel her fury.

The brunette's eyes crystallize, remembering. He hated his memory, he already wishes he were old and thought about each day with joy that he could easily die at any moment. He lowers his eyes when he hears a splash. One of her salty tears fell onto his tea. Richard sighs, it was nothing to worry about, but the scene he had made was stupid, lucky that he lived alone, because if anyone had seen it he would feel like shit for months. He thinks he's very sensitive when alone, which is perfect, but it's also very problematic for him. Every big or small problem he has outside his house he remembers perfectly, with a stone face he manages to appear disinterested, but when he gets to the apartment he sits on the couch and watches the turned-off television. The black screen and your cloudy mind make a good combination to give you a space of total silence. It is not a calm, uncomfortable silence or one that expresses any emotion. It is a silent moment, but he knows that he will go out of control for no reason and destroy his surroundings and himself. Basically, the calm before the storm.

Luckily for him, his tears were few, and there was nothing to worry about when drinking his cup of tea, but the pang of anguish in his chest made him leave the almost full cup on the table. He takes a few steps away, but his mind begins to shoot those guilty thoughts. Should he finish the tea or not? There were people who couldn't even take a piece of bread and he was wasting tea. Yes, I had another trauma with the waste. He walks quickly to the table and grabs the cup, lifting it and drinking it so quickly that he feels his throat burn with the burning liquid. Another thought crosses his mind, it was another damn memory when he was little. His mother got angry with him for not eating before going to class and, since she couldn't do anything, she quickly drank the cup, burning her throat and watching as her mother's angry expression grew. Before getting hit, he would run out the door as fast as he could and enter his school very early.

—Damn old shit!— He moves the cup away from his lips and throws it hard against the floor, making it break into a thousand pieces of porcelain. With the sleeves of his hands, he cleans his cracked and burned lips. They have not been broken by the hot liquid, they have been broken a long time ago by the cold and by biting himself so constantly because of his anxiety.

For a moment, he casually focuses his gaze on his sleeve. He was wearing his pajamas, which made sense because he had just woken up, but he should have changed into his suit by now.

"I can't be that idiot." He curses himself and takes off his pajama top in the kitchen, runs to his room and finishes taking off his pajamas, throws them on his bed and looks for his suit hanging on the coat rack. .

After a few minutes, he was already wearing his white shirt, his black pants, the reddish tie that he always wears, (It's not that it was a precious object or anything like that, it was literally the only tie in his closet) and his black jacket. on. It was a typical outfit at work, he felt good in his full suit, but sometimes he felt suffocated, it was a strange feeling, because even with or without a tie, at work he felt that feeling from time to time. Maybe it was because I couldn't stand being surrounded for so many hours by papers, people and the sound of machines on making small sounds, but already unbearable to listen to all day.

To finish, he puts on his black shoes and walks slowly out of his house. With the clock in his hands, it has already been reported that it is still early. You can walk to work, or just call a taxi, but you don't feel like spending money on a driver who will surely be late and charge you dearly to take you a few blocks to the building where you worked. He goes down the stairs of his apartment carefully, he has never gotten used to going down and up stairs, they have always given him that feeling of taking a wrong step and falling against the floor with such force that he would have a concussion. He wanted that to happen, but with his shitty luck he would probably end up with minor injuries in a crappy hospital that would leave him in huge debt for treating those minor injuries.

He reaches the front door and leaves the apartment. His steps are calm, he walks slowly without caring much about arriving early. At this rate he would arrive on time, he had already calculated it. He looks at his front without paying attention to the city landscape. He had arrived years ago, he had that face of excitement and desire to start a new page in his life, but a few days later life reminded him that his life was not worth it and he should throw himself in front of a train and die as soon as possible. possible. The buildings are huge, the windows show people working in different positions. Richard let out a yawn, the sun slowly rose in the dark sky with bright reds, warning that dawn would begin and the sun would be seen. His dark brown hair, almost close to black, is illuminated by the sun's rays and makes its brown color lighter. The heat of the sun on his hair gives him a strange feeling, like discomfort and comfort. He doesn't know how to explain it. The sunlight made him angry because it blinded him, burned his delicate pale skin like a vampire, and continually made his life miserable in different ways, but the feeling of light heat in his hair was comfortable. It's not that he liked the heat, on the contrary, he hated summer with all his soul, but the heat in times of cold was wonderful.

Enjoy the feeling until the sun sets overhead, illuminating the streets and large buildings. The strange and comforting feeling has now gone, giving way to the heavy feeling that it is another day of work. The noise of people begins to be heard, the footsteps and voices chattering gives him a feeling of disgust and fear that he has already felt several times. People crowd around him, the discomfort is noticeable even on his face, but he tries to remain as neutral as possible. His legs gave out and he almost fell, but he managed to pull himself together before making an embarrassing moment in public. He mentally insults himself, he should have made coffee or finished his tea, at the very least. His legs were still asleep after walking, or he had just tired quickly from walking for a while because of the sleep he still had.

He bites his lips, the urge to yell at people to get away from him and stop making him uncomfortable was very strong in his mind, but he didn't want to start riots. He raises his head and focuses his gaze on the sky, slamming his eyes shut as the sunlight hurts his eyes. He cursed loudly and lowered his head, touched his eyes and looked at the same colored lights he saw in the morning. This time they weren't a small spectacle, it was a tiny hell. He doesn't even dare to look at people's glances, he already feels them on his back, people were very intrusive when they wanted to, and when it suited them, they ignored everything.

Minutes later, he was already entering the building where he must work all day. The security guard looks at his business card and lets him in, yet not even the same guard who has been at the door three years in a row has recognized him. Well, there were a lot of workers, but the burly guy with sunglasses had known him for three years and he didn't even remember that he worked there every time he came in, but the son of a bitch remembered the first and last name of the rest, who didn't even all go there. the days of the week for three years in a row.

The sounds of the soles of his shoes hitting the floor make a particularly loud sound ring through all the silence. As he walks further, the sound of his shoes isn't the only one. The voices of people answering calls and shouting filled the hallways, the footsteps of other shoes accompanied his, his colleagues who he didn't even know the name passed by him and bumped their shoulders. The subjects just move on, too busy with their work to feel humanity and apologize for the crash.

he look at the door where people came and went quickly. Everyone's steps were quick, and most had a phone in hand and papers in their other free hand. The work there was very busy, so they didn't even have their own thoughts. They were like machines during work hours, and the few who did have time to think about their homes were the ones who worked the least.

He doesn't even knock on the door and it is already opened by an annoying co-worker who intercepts him before he could think of evading him. This is Charlie Giordano, a grown man with wavy and shiny light brown hair, he seemed to care a lot about him, since almost everyone his age didn't even have hair. The most precious thing about Charlie Giordano was his hair, without exaggeration. He had already heard him speak bitterly on the phone with his wife, he also heard the gossip that he had a mistress, and the last thing he heard in their conversation on the phone was that he was planning to get divorced, since he heard that she decided not to get involved anymore.

" Hello, Richard! Could you send this to be photocopied? It has to be in color because Marti's genius came up with the idea of writing it as if he were in primary school. " Charlie said, picking up a sheet of paper and giving it to her hand. .

"Well, not to exaggerate. I just had a moment of imagination." adds a man with short black hair wearing suspenders, a white shirt and black pants, passing through the hallway with a phone in hand.

Richard thinks he is exaggerating, but when he reads the text he notices the colors he used to write on his computer. It seemed to be written by a kid who learned how to use Word. Each sentence was a striking color, the images were very large compared to the text and there were several misspelled words. He can't believe an adult would do that, but Marti was the reincarnation of "Ripening is for fruit."

"Wow.... Don't you want me to copy everything again, but in my style? I don't think it would look so good if they gave this to the boss." Remember that those papers were for an important meeting, if it had been for something else I would have let it go, but since they were important papers he preferred to do them in a good way, like an adult responsible and mature, not like an adult with a chiLdish mentality.

Maybe Marti was mature, but he didn't give a damn about his job, or he just liked to do naughty things from time to time to have fun or get himself fired. He was probably just doing it to annoy, he was friends with the boss and he thought doing his job like a child was funny.

" I leave it in your hands." Charlie makes a gesture with his hands as if he were handing him something invisible. He seems amused to see Richard's confused, ice-cold face and laughs a little. He enters through the door and goes back to doing hIs work inside. .

"Kosolowick!" A man shouts with spirit behind him, approaches and rests his hand around his neck until he leaves it still on his shoulder.

" Kozłowski." He corrects, without looking at the man. He hated those touches from people he didn't like, well, he didn't really like being touched by anyone.

He knows that his last name is difficult for foreigners to pronounce, in Poland he never had any problems, but in the United States they had even asked him if he spoke Spanish after hearing him speak with a strange accent. He would give them a look of complete annoyance, and tell them that his country of origin was Poland, and they would immediately ask him how to speak Polish. It's not that he minded talking about his country, but he didn't like being called by his last name. He had already dropped his mother's last name and kept his father's; he had planned to change it to a Yankee surname that was easier to pronounce, but he didn't feel like doing it. He has already had several problems with his father, but they were less than those he had with his mother. He could stand seeing his paternal last name on his document, but he didn't like saying it In public or being called by it all the time.

"Yes whatever. What did you do on the weekend?"

Richard doesn't even want to think about his memories again. He's had enough this morning remembering his shitty childhood. Over the weekend he had stayed up late into the night, only sleeping four hours out of the six he normally slept. His dark circles were very noticeable, but since he had them from the first day, no one asked him how well he had slept.

" Nothing, just sleep." He lies in the easiest way he can think of, he has already said it several times and they have believed him every time. In the office, he was the boring boy who only cared about work. He never I had heard some rumors about him that were interesting, partly because he was like a statue and also because he got along well with the group of old gossips in the office, who found out everything through their contacts.

Just sitting next to them at lunch was enough for them to open up to him and tell him the gossip. The old women liked him because they knew the friendly version of his mother, they reminded her of the good woman she was, and he hated that, but with his teeth grinding he resisted the urge to hit them and tried to be as kind as possible.

"Oh, come on! Is that the only thing you do, man?" he asks with mockery and amusement. This is Thomas Peterson, a joking guy and considered friendly to most of the workers in the building. Unlike others, he had a high rank and did his job well. They would get along well if it weren't for his personality and attitude. From the moment they locked eyes he knew they wouldn't get along.

Thomas' ocean look, full of life and color, contrasts with Richard's empty, lifeless and dark look. Thomas' blue eyes seemed to see his soul, he already knew that his brown gaze was dead, but he didn't seem to leave him alone. She tried to integrate him from day one, but she never succeeded because Richard never even wanted her to get close to him.

" Yes." he states, removing his arm from his shoulder and walking towards his stall. Thomas follows him like a stray dog chasing someone who gave him food, although taking a closer look at the situation between them, it was more like a dog chasing someone with food they didn't like to share.

"Do you have a girlfriend?" he asks out of nowhere, it was very typical of him to ask personal questions without knowing people well. On the first day of work he asked him if he had sex with someone, he responded with a sincere "fuck you." and went to sit in hIs seat.

Richard remains silent, he is already comfortably at his table in front of the computer. With the text next to it, start entering the application to write everything from scratcH.

"Or boyfriend?.... I don't criticize, I support the LGQB Community"

He turns his head, stopping looking at the computer to give the blue-eyed man a judging look.

" You know it's not called like that, right? " If he remembers correctly, he himself had been in charge of making a poster for Pride Day. He couldn't be so stupid as not to remember, but apparently he was.

With all the more reason he should have been in charge of editing the posters he made, he knows that he is supposed to be an accountant and must be in charge of numbers, but the company's advertising also interested him. I went from being an Accountant to an editor, depending on the day.

"Is that a yes or no?"

His judgmental eyes change to tired and irritated ones. He looks back at the computer screen and types on the keyboard. The sound of your fingers tapping on the keyboard is relaxing when you're alone writing notes about your life and some stories, but in the middle of the office with a talker in front and a hundred other people frantically tapping on the keyboard it was a bit stressful. Unconsciously, you try to keep up with the others who are eager to finish everything quickly and correctlY.

Thomas, already defeated, leaves and lets him continue with his work. Every time he writes a word he looks askance at the paper, how could someone be so stupid to write that? And Charlie wanted to make more photocopies of that? What the hell was happening to people? Was he the only one with common sense

He frowns, not imagining that there are such idiotic people at work.

He sees the silhouette of someone get in front of him, he relaxes his expression to the point that it becomes one of complete boredom and annoyance, thinking that he would have to put up with another idiot who spent his time bothering people from table to table as if he had no business. nothing else to do. The computer blocks his view, so he has to raise his head a little to look at who is in fronT of him.

"Excuse me, but do you already have the supply chart? I asked you for it last Friday, I don't know if you remember." asks a blonde boy with light brown eyes and nearsighted glasses. His presence relaxes Richard, James, who doesn't remember his last name, was the human combination of tranquility. and good vibeS.

James was a good boy, why couldn't anyone be like James? He was calm, even more so than him. He seemed to have a good life. He had already heard from his own mouth that he had a wife and two small children, he saw them often, he was not so attached to work. Despite having that neutral face, he was a very good person, and not in an irritating way.