Living alone, ashtrays everywhere on the old furniture, the occasional cognac, the typewriter, the disks on the shelves, rarely leaving my appartment,...just for cigarettes, digesting and replaying the past in my head.I don't know if you ever noticed my dark silhoutte before on the stairs when we happened to cross our ways. Large shoulders, a black leather jacket, black jeans, short black hair, moving elastically, youthfully, as if I took a deep breath before surging from behind my door, locking. She ran over to me and enveloped me in a comforting hug. Rosa was short and stout; her head barely coming to my shoulder; but her hug made me feel as if I was a little girl again. I started crying, too.“Who would do such a thing to Roberto?” she blubbered, “he was such a good boy.”That question was on the front of my mind also so after Rosa let me go I turned to my sister-in-law.“What happened Val?” I asked after I got the tears under control.She shrugged.“All I know is that a maintenance. More

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