Some sneakers, at last

This pamphlet is pathetic - the coldness of Mario's voice enveloped Rubén like a current of icy air and he continued reading - "You won't find someone better to serve you and be so willing to... " At least, I haven't blocked you and little more. I hope not to see you lurking around this street, or the neighborhood.

- What am I going to do without you? - Rubén murmured.

- You're young, not even twenty-one, are you? I've taught you a lot. You always knew I didn't want obligations and you're starting to depend too much on me. It's for the best - reclining on the sofa, Mario gazed at a trembling and clumsy Rubén as he put on his feathers and grabbed his backpack. He crossed his legs, revealing more of one of his New Balance shoes.

Rubén was overcome by the memory of that scene, four years ago, in the institute's locker room. He fired a final shot, actually, a last sample of humiliation.

- I would be willing to pay you if... - he swallowed - if you allowed me to take your shoes.

- Pay me? - Mario smiled ironically -.

- Forty euros, that's all I have - Rubén remained still with his two bills in his hand, but without looking up.

- Would you really pay me? - Mario savored, taking off each shoe with the other -. Keep your money, idiot. There they are. They're old and dirty. Put them in your backpack and get out. Come on!

Rubén didn't expect Mario to accompany him to the door. He couldn't even thank him with a knot in his throat. He opened the door and turned his face towards the eyes of the one who was discarding him without turning back. He could no longer hold back his tears. This made the situation even more uncomfortable and Mario decided to end it already.

- Good luck. Goodbye - that was all he said as he closed the door.