on the stairs. Pain. He pulled out his keys, which hung around his neck, and unlocked the door. The light coming from the basement attracted him like a butterfly. He heard someone hurriedly stacking wood. He moved closer.
The flashlight on the floor shone on the pile of blankets under which limp arms and legs stuck out. The embroidered shawl with fringes that covered the skull, which was wrapped in scarves, was heavy with blood. The pool of blood was quickly cooling down, but the stench still made the stomach turn.
The sadness cut him like a knife, with a sharp bloodless move.
He stepped over the flashlight and picked up his neighbour’s axe. The man that was rearranging the wood from one partition to the other was startled by the scraping of the axe on the concrete floor.
"Hold on, neighbour! It’s not what it looks like! There were two other men! Get it? They ran away when I walked in! They dug up the snow and got in through the window! Look! Look! Over there! Take a look, for Christ’s sake!"
He shifted his gaze. The window was open. The reinforced glass was broken just enough so that an arm could fit through it.
"You’re stealing firewood."
"Look, neighbour…she won’t be needing it anymore…she’s dead. Get it? I mean…you know…" he smiled, "We can work something out…"
"You vulture!"
"Hold on! Hold on!"
He raised the axe.
"For God’s sake, I have kids…No! NO! NO!!!
He continued chopping even when the cries stopped.
* * *
He knocked on the door, his pockets filled with photographs, his new axe on his shoulder. He heard quick footsteps on the tile floor. The knob turned.
"Where have you been?! I’ve been worried sick! Did you get the wood? Why are you standing in the door? You’re just letting the cold in! Get inside! It’s not as if we have wood to spare…"
He stood in silence, his pupils moist and vibrant. His chin quivered like a small child’s before bursting into tears. He slowly hung his head on his chest. He looked meek, as though he was waiting for his punishment. But all he wanted was to get a bit of rest, just for a few days…to read next to the warm fireplace…
The axe swung in the air.
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