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Rating: I could barely make her out on that chair, but it didn't take a refined investigative intuition to realize that poor girl wasn't having a good time at all. I felt a sense of spectral unease around; only an anonymous tile wall separated her from unknown developments that promised nothing good.
In a moment, I felt my nerves overwhelmed by the poison of indecision; a slick and disgusting black mamba had ensnared my heel and was slowly paralyzing me. Providence willed that a glimmer of lucidity would awaken me from the unfortunate stupor, suggesting the likely possibility that someone more resolute than I would soon return to keep my young friend company and, in a burst of most undesirable hospitality, would extend malevolent invitations to yours truly. It was entirely reasonable to expect it.
Just like when a poison gets into the bloodstream, it was only a matter of time. And I had very little of it to choose between a shameful but salvific silence and a dutiful and commendable intervention of help.
I deemed the second option more appropriate. In the worst case, I would be remembered for something good.
All that remained was to find a way to take action; the problem was getting closer. Yes. Because what I saw to my left was one of those big, angry dogs, and something told me it hadn't had lunch yet. It was highly probable that in the mind of the charming four-legged sentinel, my timid initiative would have the effect similar to the ringing of Pavlov's bell, with only one unequivocal meaning: "food." No way. Believe it or not, the idea of having my neck keep its fangs occupied did not thrill me at all.
Meanwhile, time was passing relentlessly, and the only safer access route, long and tortuous as it was, seemed to be that manhole cover by the sidewalk. I was ready to overlook the sad fate of my new shoes, but the fear of clowns was even greater than that of rats. And that red Plymouth further down? It might contain some clue. Hmm... better avoid it. The usual ominous premonition.
The hope that I could do something for that woman was giving way to resignation, when I saw a man walking toward me. - Ok, here we go! - I thought, not without a bit of agitation. - If it's him, I'll be happy to pay my respects to him in my own way -. Naturally, I wasn't sure, but it was reassuring to notice that, despite his casual jogging attire (a red t-shirt and a pair of dark blue pants, similar to those of a modest quality tracksuit), he didn't seem to be particularly athletic. The fact was he looked like a local, and it seemed I had caught his attention. Let's take a deep breath.
"Are you alright? You've been standing here for a while; can I help you?"
Perfect - I thought - he was watching me, and now he wants to trick me. “In fact, yes. There’s a woman over there, do you see her? Someone must have tied her...”
Before I could finish the sentence, he interrupted me confidently, with a sardonic smile:
“And do you see that delightful blonde over there?”
He caught me off guard - Bastard! He must have caught her too! - I thought desperately: “I'm afraid I don't understand, forgive me...”
And he, with an even more malevolent grin: "Over there... do you see? It's 8.50 at the checkout! There's a 25% discount. Mohohahahahaha!!!!!!!”
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