The bald head, more bare than the plain in winter, a few pimples dotted his skin like a lost constellation. He strolled, dwarfed by the frivolous lights of the city, each step revealing a hesitation, like a note played on an out-of-tune piano.
The shadows beneath his eyes, deep and dark, told stories of sleepless nights and broken dreams. Her shoulder bag, like a silent burden, swayed with every movement.
The man stopped in front of the most beautiful glass tower in the city, took a badge from his pocket and entered the building. The elevator quickly went up to the twentieth floor...
