Unstoppable I

''We gon' set this party off right." he said, or at least that was what Leo got from the rusty voice, with an almost annoying Bronx accent.



Leo lit a cigarette, as he silently walked away from the group of men in the dimmed and smoky room. "-where do you think you're going, dipshit?" said one of the men. Leo stopped, his legs started shaking, and as he turned around he almost fell down due to dizziness. "is there a problem, gentleman?" Leo said, trying to sound much more confident than he actually was. The man with the Bronx accent got up and looked deeply in Leo's eyes, as though he could read his mind. "-we ain't talkin' 'bout problems son. we're talkin' 'bout favors, and you owe us one, as far as I recall".

Leo sighed. "shit" he thought, and sat down putting out his cigarette. "gentleman, let us be reasonable. When I made that promise there was no way I could predict the outcome!"



"do I look like a give a fuck, boy?" said the man with the Bronx accent, who was still standing.

"if I am going to keep my promess, I need a little more time"



A fat, bald man said, in a very deep voice: "you have one day. Now leave."



Leo left the room, almost breathless. What the fuck was he going to do now?



He was now walking down an alley, which was a shortcut to his apartment. It was a medium size place, well lit, with old but beautiful furniture. Nothing remarkable about that apartment, just a regular, boring place to crash after a day's work. That day, however, Leo would not fall asleep. His mind was chaotic and rushing with a thousand thoughts at a time. Nothing exceptional about Leo - except of course, that he is a 35 year old widower - he is black, not too tall, not too short, just enough for him to pass by unnoticed, pretty much everywhere he goes. He does not have hair, not naturally, by choice. Leo thinks hair as an unnecessary accessory, dispensable. His eyes are completely black, they do not change depending on the intensity of the light, just completely, undoubtedly, black. His general expression appears to be of total boredom - although he is easily entertained - probably because of his always half open eye lids.



The next morning, while having his "breakfast" (he was lazy enough to eat only one piece of bread, with nothing on it) he wondered. How the fuck did he get in that situation? He tried to put the pieces of the facts back together, but it made no sense at all. He understood his debts, he was just not sure on how he was going to pay them.



He got out of his apartment, and started walking the 20-minute walk to his job.