John was suffering from a very strong headache he does not knows the causes. He was considering calling a doctor for months but he was afraid of discovering he was very sick. Sick enough to die. He was so tense that he was putting so much pressure on his teeth while sleeping that he couldn’t eat any solid food anymore. He was becoming thin and thin, loosing the power of his muscles, loosing the sanity of his thoughts. One of this mornings John woke up slowly. He walked until his old wardrobe. Opened it. He founded a big wooden box he used to store his belongs inside since he was a teenager, during second world war times when the church near his parents home was bombarded. John opened it. He walked until his house`s front door. Went to the street and leaved the box on the ground. It was raining as usual in New Plymouth during this time of the year. John was crying. He was tired. He stayed static as a marble`s statue for one hour; for two hours; for three days… until the neighbourhood children come and stolen all John`s belong from the wooden box and went out laughing and running. One of them was using John`s yellow helmet. Another one tried to listening a cassette he found inside the box using his uncle 80`s Walkman. The mother of one of the children found John`s business card on the table. John: The Van Man. She called his untie who was about to rent a van and suggested him to call John. Maybe John has a best price? Who knows? John was found inside his house yesterday morning lying on his living room`s floor. His mobile phone was ringing. The ambulance got him to the hospital. Now, he is being transferred to a bigger hospital in the city of New Port. He is not awake anymore. All those moments are about be lost in time like tears in rain. Time to die.
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