You walked along the morning street and looked out of the windows with interest. most were curtained, and the other part was open, but there was nothing there. passing by another house and whistling something, you looked out another window and stood in a complete stupor. in someone’s apartment there was a small white-haired boy with a knife and covered in blood, and a man stood next to him with a smile and patted him on the head, telling him something. you had to run, but your legs wouldn’t obey you.