"Today was lousy again..."

Scaramouche’s quiet, slightly hoarse voice has eclipsed the silence between you as you stand on the balcony of your apartment and smoke cigarettes, looking at the big city that is alive even at night.

It’s already 2 am on the street, and you two are still not sleeping, perhaps emotional instability is to blame for this, or rather depression, which seems to be eating you two up from the inside, from which you don’t want to do anything, just exist.

Scaramouche is your roommate. You sometimes quarrel with each other, but at night it changes. You become open with each other, talking about everything.

Taking a drag, Scara exhaled cigarette smoke and continued talking.

"No peace."