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[Pacenia]

Sam Spade was 35 years old, had a job as a bus driver and lived alone in a little flat opposite a petrol station on a busy street in London. He was an ordinary man and lived an ordinary life. Some people might call it boring, but he was satisfied with it and enjoyed his independence as a confirmed bachelor. However, it happened in a rainy night of automn, that his egocentric life became out of order.
It was 3:40 a.m. when Sam Spade had just finished his night turn and came home from work. He was not tired yet and so he sat down on his old leather sofa in the living room, putting out the last cigarette of the packet of cigarettes he had in his waistcoat pocket contemperaneously and threw the empty packet heedlessly on the floor. Subsequently, he grapped for the bottle of water, which was lying under the little glass coffee table, and emptied it. The sound of the cars that were driving past outside, made him tired and he settled back and draw on his cigarette. The room was dark except of the blue light of the petrol station which glared through the slits of the roller shutter of the only window in the room. Sam closed his eyes. He thought about going to bed but did not want to move. He did not even want to take the ashtray from the table.- so he ashed on the floor and decided to do the cleaning tomorrow after having a good night`s rest. Suddenly Sam startled and opened his eyes wide. He had dozen off and the sudden ringing of the doorbell had scared him to death. He took a look at his black watch and knitted his brows. It was 4:30 a.m. and he did not expect anybody to come. The situation reminded him on the horror flicks he used to watch as a teenager. He did not catch anybody who would visit him at that time.
The doorbell rang again. Suddenly, he was wide awake and thought intensively. He scratched his head. Who was it? He did never get in contact with any mafiosi- except the keepers of the italian restaurant on the ground floor. But they weren’t mafiosis, were they? It rang another time. Sam came to the conclusion to open the door now, to avoid any further incertitude. He plucked up courage, stood up and sneaked to the door. His heart was in his boots when he asked who it was. He made a surprised face. Finally, Sam breath a sigh of alief and pressed the door released bottom.
A few seconds later an old lady with tearstained eyes entered his appartment. Her hair was grey and tumbled. She held a suitcase in her hands and said, “Hello Samuel. I’m sorry for incommode you, but... I have just left your father. Can I stay here for the night?” Sam was relieved, despite the uncommon problem of his mother. He looked at her and shrugged his shoulders. “Okay, you can have my bed.” As soon as he had closed the door, he sat down again on the sofa and ignored her. He was confused. First he reckoned with a mafiosi wanting to kill him and later it turns out that it was his mother. How ridiculous! By the way, he had never expected that his parents would break off some day.
His mother was still standing next to the door, looking at him and waiting for a reaction. As he did not pay attention to her, she opened the door of his bedroom and disappeared inside. Sam did not know what to do. While he was taking off his uniform, he thought about the opportunities. Maybe he should try to console her. But then he decided not to think about it until the next day and fell asleep on the sofa.
He did not wake up till five minutes past two when the telephone rang. He was still dozy and did not remember the happening of the night before. Besides, he did not find his telephone right away, because it was smothered with a pack of magazines on the floor. When he finally answered it, the person at the other ending of the line had already hung up. Sam heard a noise from his bedroom and saw that the door was being opened carefully. His mother`s head appeared and immidately he remembered what had happened the night before. She looked more calmly now. Her hair was combed and she wore makeup. As he was not interested in the problems of his parents`relationship he avoided to talk to her. But suddenly he remembered that he was only wearing underpants. So he got dressed expeditously by taking some of the pieces of cloths out of the basket which was standing right beside the sofa.
He put on a jeans, which was a bit too close for his beer belly, and a blue wool sweater. Then he sat down again on the sofa and folded the plaid blanked he had used the night before. His mother was still not saying a word and Sam did not know what to say, neither. He was overtaxed by the situation. Normally, he did not see his parents for the whole year, expect christmas and their birthdays. Only one time they had visited him in his flat. Of course he had tidied up before.
His mother started to walk through the room and took a look at his belongings. She kept standing in front of the bookcase and took out a photo album of his childhood. She smiled and paged through it. Sam suddenly remembered the dust on his furniture and the whole disorder of his appartment. Fortunatly, he found a pack of tobacco on the floor and rolled a cigarette to calm down. He lit it up with the black petrol lighter his father gave him once.
His mother was still watching photos. Strangely enough, she was not annoyed by the smoke of his cigarette as usual. A few minutes passed and the only audible sound was the tic-tac of the big white clock on the white pinted wall beside the window. The roller shutter was still closed and chattering in the wind. Finally, his mother put away the photo album, opened the roller shutter and the window and said with a confident voice, “You should stop smoking. It is really bad for your health. And call me a taxi, please. I want to go out.”
Sam stubbed out his cigarette and took the telefone which he had put on the table. He asked indefferently, “What number is it?” And his mother said, “1-2-0-0-2." After having called the taxi he stood up, took his jacket, which was lying on the back of the sofa, and went to the door. He said, “I will come with you” and put his keys and an apple of the fruit bowl on the kitchen table into the pocket of his jacket.
They left the apartment together and slammed the door.

[Keswick]

Sam Spade was 35 years old, had a job as a bus driver and lived alone in a little flat opposite a petrol station on a busy street in London. He was an ordinary man and lived an ordinary life. Some people might call it boring, but he was satisfied with it and enjoyed his independence as a confirmed bachelor. However, it happened in a rainy night of autumn, that his egocentric life went haywire.
It was 3:40 a.m. when Sam Spade had just finished his night turn and came home from work. He was not tired yet and so he sat down on his old leather sofa in the living room, contemporaneously putting out the last cigarette of the packet of cigarettes he had in his waistcoat pocket and heedlessly threw the empty packet on the floor. Subsequently, he grapped for the bottle of water, which was lying under the little glass coffee table, and emptied it. The sound of the cars that were driving past outside, made him tired and he settled back and drew on his cigarette. The room was dark except for the blue light of the petrol station which glared through the slits of the roller shutter of the only window in the room. Sam closed his eyes. He thought about going to bed but did not want to move. He did not even want to take the ashtray from the table - so he ashed on the floor and decided to do the cleaning tomorrow after having a good night`s rest. Suddenly Sam startled and opened his eyes wide. He had dozen off and the sudden ringing of the doorbell had scared him to death. He took a look at his black watch and knitted his brows. It was 4:30 a.m. and he did not expect anybody to come. The situation reminded him on the horror flicks he used to watch as a teenager. He did not catch anybody who would visit him at that time.
The doorbell rang again. Suddenly, he was wide awake and thought intensively. He scratched his head. Who was it? He did never get in contact with any mafiosi- except the keepers of the Italian restaurant on the ground floor. But they weren’t mafiosi, were they? It rang again. Sam came to the conclusion to answer the door now, to avoid any further incertitude. He plucked up courage, stood up and sneaked to the door. His heart was in his boots when he asked who it was. He made a surprised face.
Finally, Sam sighed with relief and pressed the door opener. A few seconds later an old lady with tearstained eyes entered his appartment. Her hair was grey and tumbled. She held a suitcase in her hands and said, “Hello Samuel. I’m sorry to disturb you, but... I have just left your father. Can I stay here for the night?” Sam was relieved, despite the uncommon problem of his mother. He looked at her and shrugged his shoulders. “Okay, you can have my bed.” As soon as he had closed the door, he sat down again on the sofa and ignored her. He was confused. First he reckoned with a mafiosi wanting to kill him and later it turns out to be his mother. How ridiculous! Beside that, he had never expected that his parents would break off some day.
His mother was still standing next to the door, looking at him and waiting for a reaction. As he did not pay attention to her, she opened the door of his bedroom and disappeared inside. Sam did not know what to do. While he was taking off his uniform, he thought about the opportunities. Maybe he should try to console her. But then he decided not to think about it until the next day and fell asleep on the sofa.
He did not wake up till five minutes past two when the telephone rang. He was still dozy and did not remember the event of the night before. Besides, he did not find his telephone right away, because it was smothered with a pack of magazines on the floor. When he finally answered it, the person at the other end of the line had already hung up. Sam heard a noise from his bedroom and saw that the door was being opened carefully. His mother`s head appeared and he immidiately remembered what had happened the night before. She looked calmer now. Her hair was combed and she wore makeup. As he was not interested in the problems of his parents`relationship he avoided to talk to her. But suddenly he remembered that he was only wearing underpants. So he got dressed quickly by taking some of the pieces of clothes out of the basket which was standing right beside the sofa.
He put on a jeans, which was a bit too tight for his beer belly, and a blue wool sweater. Then he sat down again on the sofa and folded the plaid blanket he had used the night before. His mother was still not saying a word and Sam did not know what to say either. He was overtaxed by the situation. Normally, he did not see his parents for the whole year, expect for Christmas and their birthdays. Only once had they visited him in his flat. Of course he had tidied up before.
His mother started to walk through the room and took a look at his belongings. She kept standing in front of the bookcase and took out a photo album of his childhood. She smiled and paged through it. Sam suddenly remembered the dust on his furniture and the whole disorder of his apartment. Fortunatly, he found a pack of tobacco on the floor and rolled a cigarette to calm down. He lit it up with the black petrol lighter his father gave him once.
His mother was still looking at the photos. Strangely enough, she was not annoyed by the smoke of his cigarette as she usually was. A few minutes passed and the only audible sound was the tic-tac of the big white clock on the white painted wall beside the window. The roller shutter was still closed and chattering in the wind. Finally, his mother put away the photo album, opened the roller shutter and the window and said with a confident voice, “You should stop smoking. It is really bad for your health. And call me a taxi, please. I want to go out.”
Sam stubbed out his cigarette and took the telephone which he had put on the table. He asked indifferently, “What number is it?” And his mother said, “1-2-0-0-2." After having called the taxi he stood up, took his jacket, which was lying on the back of the sofa, and went to the door. He said, “I will come with you” and put his keys and an apple of the fruit bowl on the kitchen table into the pocket of his jacket.
They left the apartment together and slammed the door.

Nice story.. how does it go on?