Sempre gostei de admirar o pôr do sol, acho que ele provoca um certo fascínio. Ao contemplá-lo sinto uma certa nostalgia, uma vontade de pedir para o tempo congelar um instante. Talvez porque a…
His skin was leathery and torn. He could easily have been mistaken for an old man were it not for his childish features that still penetrated his battered exterior.
It wouldn’t be long before his youth faded entirely.
The cracks on his face were accentuated by his vacant grin. Almost a grimace.
He was looking down at a small number of dirty coins in the palm of his hand. He cupped them protectively as if they possessed the power to impart life. That was one way to look at them.
Still grinning, he picked up one of the coins between his thumb and forefinger and deposited it slowly into the slot of the street-dwelling machine in front of him. Passersby ignored this aged child as his grin widened and his eyes glazed.
The coin dropped to the bottom of the machine’s innards.
He closed his eyes and waited for his surprise to be dispensed. They had told him he should close his eyes. They had told him surprises were always better with your eyes closed.
The door of the suicide booth locked behind him with a heavy clunk.
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