A month and a half later.
Adorno leaned against the mottled wall, looking up in the direction of home, his emaciated body trembling slightly.
He wasn't sure if it was because of hunger or the shock from today's events.
He worked in a lumber mill, responsible for stripping the bark off freshly delivered logs.
Earlier today around six in the evening, he was so exhausted that his ax slipped from his hand, narrowly missing Havier's nose and striking the wall.
He felt as though he was pinned down by cold fear.
If that ax had been even slightly off, he would surely be thrown into jail now. Tomorrow there'd be no one to buy bread for Karen and the children.
They might soon starve to death, or perhaps choose to hang their necks from the ceiling like Old Host...
Adorno shook his head vigorously, trying to rid himself of those thoughts, but the intense movement only brought more to mind.
Perhaps tomorrow, a co-worker would be weak enough to let go of the ax, smashing his own head.
