Mike entered the palace from the secondary, because the glass door was blocked by the painters who, following the directions of the administrator, they were repainting the lobby. Climbing the stairs to the fourth floor of his apartment, pulled from his jeans pocket a sheet of squared paper, worn, folded in an irregular way, and broke it reread for the umpteenth time.
His feet are stuck on the third step, and after a moment's hesitation, they brought down on the ground floor, where painters and splashed pink stretched hands. Mike took a jar out of sight and hidden under the stairs, spilled paint in the mouth, drowning.
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