EARTH, SOLOMON ISLANDS, CURRENT TI.
In a house in the middle of nowhere.
A man in his thirties is pacing around his own bedroom. At each step he takes he ruminates sothing, at each step, he breathes harder.
Like soone who is about to make a big decision, he can't stop walking around in the room and from ti to ti he stops and takes a drag on his cigarette.
'Stop!' he thought to himself.
He looks in the mirror in front of himself, 'it's attached' he thinks, that's why he didn't sell back in the days.
He sees his own reflection in the mirror. .
Long beard, long hair, and the marks of ti all around his face.
He kept looking into his own eyes until he forgot the ti.
In front of a mirror in the middle of his empty bedroom, Mack keeps looking at the only item remaining in his house, a mirror, like a joke made by the gods, to make him look at himself one last ti.
The cigarette in his hand is already burning the skin of his middle finger, but he is apathetic to the feeling. He looks into his own eyes, clear green eyes, once full of life, now ...
'Who cares.' thought Mack to himself.
He felt sothing warm on his face.
Putting his hand over to feel, for his own surprise, a tear fell from his right eye.
"It was a hell of life my man." he says in a sadder but also proud tone.
He doesn't even rember the last ti he said sothing aloud, almost like it was a stranger's voice, his own voice, 'so grave'.
He closes his eyes and a deep breath leaves his lungs.
And like a trained movent he already did a thousand tis…..
He stabs his own neck with a scissor.
And darkness ca to embrace Mack.
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