Points of View
Lazily she rolled over the bed. Se peeked through her eyelashes the fine dust lighted by the bright of the window. That dust flew so quietly, free of gravity. Or better, it floated so languidly that it seemed unmovable in the air. It seemed like time had stopped: she sensed distractedly the stillness of the room around her and focused on the immobility of dust.
But time had not stopped and, set aside that brief thought, she heard the sound of water flowing behind the door: she lingered still for a moment, just listening.
The man in the shower turned off the water and, after a transitory relief from the mugginess that made air unbearable, grabbed a towel, came out of the bathroom, gazed at her - laying on the bed- and smiled, confident she was still sleeping: the idea of waking her up brushed his mind and he got closer, then a fly crossed his sight.
Annoyed, he drove it away with a hand gesture.
The fly went into the bathroom, but the high humidity irritated it. Its wings felt heavy. The vapour was oppressive. A breeze moved the bug: immediately it turned to the window open into the morning air and flew to the street, and rapidly passed through the dragging people, still dozed off. Among them, there were those who went to the office, to work, those who went who-knows-where, all of them just straggled. So did the fly that, moving from a course to another, covering the whole north of the city, chased undismayed a trace that had aroused its curiosity. It even took the metro, patiently waited, flew for hours and hours and reached its destination. It set down with greed: its paws rested on the tender flesh of the corpse, while other bugs started flying away from those bluish rigid fingers, dead fingers.
A gloved hand got close to the insects trying to get them out, but as some flew away twice as much returned to set down on the lifeless body of the young woman: the bullet hole was perfectly placed in the centre of her pale forehead, while her expression was forced into a imploring pose, supplicating for divine absolution, knelt among the roots of a big three, with her neck unnaturally bent backward and her hands joined. Heavy wire held everything up.
The man before her inhaled deeply while he took up the camera. He immediately regretted, as the air was saturated with the unbearable smell of decomposition, advanced by then, because of the warm weather. His disgusted expression hid behind the camera and his mind sought refuge among other thoughts and distractions, in order to protect him from what he was watching.
Meanwhile, behind him, the orange tape delimitating the area was lifted by the trembling hand of a man already burdened with the weight of a sweaty shirt, a man who could not stand the consequences of the scene after his eyes too: he had never seen anything like that. He preferred to hand it to the forensics.
He got closer to the vehicle, opened the door, started the car and drove away as quickly as he could.