Four sets of eyes gawking at pictures of beachside properties from Spain on a shitty monitor in a dirty room filled with smoke and delusions. (This would be the closest any one of them would get to actually see them in person.)

           – This is the dream! Lounging on the shore, sipping a good whiskey on the rocks, looking at your woman’s ass as she goes in the water. The sun shining, music… what else could you want?

            He sprawled on the shit-coloured couch, threw his legs on the edge of the table and took a deep breath. It wasn’t the smell of the ocean that invaded his lungs. The overall fragrance in the room was more “dirty socks and stale beer with a pinch of cigar ash”.

            – While I was inside that’s the only I could think of.

            – And not dropping the soap…


            The one guy wielding the mouse did not laugh. He had the best seat, a swivel chair with fake leather that reclined. There’s something about real thugs and hoodlums, they seem to act like the gangsters in the films (it’s like they try to emulate themselves on their fictional counterparts – I guess gangsters also watch gangster films). There’s a confidence in their eyes, in their movements, in their speech. The confidence of a man that had the courage to walk the darker road. He’s tall, stocky, nose of a boxer and the mannerisms of Brando. When he talks people listen, or at least pretend to.

            – Let me tell you wha’ the dream is… That was his thing, letting people know what they should do, say, think… You wanna go to Italy, somewhere like Venice, educate yourself! It got beaches and mountains nearby. It also got lots of tourist, so there’s plenty of work… He winked slowly tilting his head as he ended his sentence.

            – Yeah, but Spain got that too

            – Nah, nah, lemme finish… You go there, you know how to talk to those people… you say birra for beer, not that cervetza bullshit, wha’ the fuck is that? Educate yourself! Plus, there’s more smart people there. By “smart people” he meant swindlers and whores. He always appreciated sweet talkers, it felt like family among them and also he thought he was immune to their charms. In case he didn’t like what you were selling he’d let you know, either by giving you the eye or with the help of his two best friends, right jab and left hook.

            – Hey, that’s smart, that’s smart. One of the other guys from the couch had suddenly woken up from hibernation. I’m thinking of doing that. I told you, didn’t I? I just need to get this money from this guy that owes me… and with the cash from my business… I told you I’m making bank… but it’s going a bit slower now… you know, winter is coming and whatnot… he got up, went to the cupboard in the corner, picked up his coat that was hanging on the door and put it on.

            – You leaving?

            Nah, just cold. This draught isn’t good for my sinuses. It was the middle of November but the window was open to ventilate the heavy clouds that were dancing freely. The only heating source in the room was the PC unit chugging along, desperately trying to make dreams into reality. Unfortunately, it didn’t run on intimidation or hopes or promises so it decided to give up and let darkness set over our characters.


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