Luigi Roccaforte era stanco di quella vita monotona. Non ne poteva più di recarsi, ogni santo giorno, a scuola per impartire lezioni di aritmetica a un branco di idioti che non avrebbe mai combinato nulla.
Certo, in qualche maniera avrebbe pure dovuto guadagnarsi la pagnotta. Ma, a suo avviso, stare appollaiato behind a desk, in front of unruly kids and spoiled, it was a real waste of time. He sighed and his memory took him back to those carefree days of his adolescence, spent in his room, leafing through magazines and dreaming of becoming, one day not far away, a reporter assault. He took another long sigh, and thought that if he could realize his dream, he might not ever lived in that rat hole and was never hungry. It must be recognized, however, that a salary of twelve hundred euro per month was not too bad. But among the various expenses to be incurred, to pay the rent and the thousands of tasks always remained in my pocket only three hundred euro. A small amount money, then. Back to reality, Luigi threw a quick glance at his wristwatch. The 7:56. He should start in high school if you do not want to risk being late and do, then scold the president for the umpteenth time. The Mancini had threatened to fire him if it happened again, but he did not care. Indeed, he could not wait to quit that job. He leaned toward the table that sat in the room, grabbed a remote control, pointed it towards the TV and on. He made a little 'zapping and tunes on Channel 5, which at that time gave the Tigga. He watched with eyes off the reporter that excited tone in announcing the murder of a young women occurred in the province of Agrigento, Ribera. Louis put his hand to his lips and swore. Then he shook his head. He could not believe that a murder had consumed right there in his city. A moment later he arose to his feet, his eyes bulging, face contorted. Took a few steps toward the dresser beside the TV spot. He went to the phone that there was rested and lifted the receiver. Dialed a number and, after a couple of rings, a hoarse voice said. "Hello?". "Julia, oh my God did you see the Tigga? One woman was .... " The voice on the other end abruptly interrupted. "She is a friend of Miss Julie Roccaforte?". "I his father, "said Louis, his voice suddenly cracked. "Um, sir, here ... I do not know how to tell him, but I have to. The mysterious woman killed this morning in Ribera is ... his daughter. I am a cop and we were to contact .... " The man let out the phone from his hands, which came to earth with a thud. No, not possible. I do not. It's a nightmare. My daughter can not be dead. Now I wake up, and I will see that none of this really happened. slowly opened her eyes, she bent over to grab the receiver and held it to his ear. Silence. A smile emerged on the trembling lips. Luigi not understand that his little there was, she was dead and that nothing could bring her back. He preferred to believe that none of this was true. When he heard a knock at the front door, walked in the large hall with walls covered with paintings and went to open it.
Certo, in qualche maniera avrebbe pure dovuto guadagnarsi la pagnotta. Ma, a suo avviso, stare appollaiato behind a desk, in front of unruly kids and spoiled, it was a real waste of time. He sighed and his memory took him back to those carefree days of his adolescence, spent in his room, leafing through magazines and dreaming of becoming, one day not far away, a reporter assault. He took another long sigh, and thought that if he could realize his dream, he might not ever lived in that rat hole and was never hungry. It must be recognized, however, that a salary of twelve hundred euro per month was not too bad. But among the various expenses to be incurred, to pay the rent and the thousands of tasks always remained in my pocket only three hundred euro. A small amount money, then. Back to reality, Luigi threw a quick glance at his wristwatch. The 7:56. He should start in high school if you do not want to risk being late and do, then scold the president for the umpteenth time. The Mancini had threatened to fire him if it happened again, but he did not care. Indeed, he could not wait to quit that job. He leaned toward the table that sat in the room, grabbed a remote control, pointed it towards the TV and on. He made a little 'zapping and tunes on Channel 5, which at that time gave the Tigga. He watched with eyes off the reporter that excited tone in announcing the murder of a young women occurred in the province of Agrigento, Ribera. Louis put his hand to his lips and swore. Then he shook his head. He could not believe that a murder had consumed right there in his city. A moment later he arose to his feet, his eyes bulging, face contorted. Took a few steps toward the dresser beside the TV spot. He went to the phone that there was rested and lifted the receiver. Dialed a number and, after a couple of rings, a hoarse voice said. "Hello?". "Julia, oh my God did you see the Tigga? One woman was .... " The voice on the other end abruptly interrupted. "She is a friend of Miss Julie Roccaforte?". "I his father, "said Louis, his voice suddenly cracked. "Um, sir, here ... I do not know how to tell him, but I have to. The mysterious woman killed this morning in Ribera is ... his daughter. I am a cop and we were to contact .... " The man let out the phone from his hands, which came to earth with a thud. No, not possible. I do not. It's a nightmare. My daughter can not be dead. Now I wake up, and I will see that none of this really happened. slowly opened her eyes, she bent over to grab the receiver and held it to his ear. Silence. A smile emerged on the trembling lips. Luigi not understand that his little there was, she was dead and that nothing could bring her back. He preferred to believe that none of this was true. When he heard a knock at the front door, walked in the large hall with walls covered with paintings and went to open it.
