It is past 9:00 p.m. and the time for me to resume writing. I bid good night to Jorgito with an amiable handshake and promise him that I will never reveal his dishonour to anyone. And I walk out the office.
As I hit the street, the sky is already dark with twinkling stars. I walk on the streets leisurely with my hands in my pockets. When I come to the middle of the bridge, I halt, so that I can take a good look at the highway and night views. From here I can see the illuminating buildings and starry night sky. It is one of my favourite spot to brood over, looking at cars wheeling-by. The night is quite warm. Cool breeze is caressing my cheeks. I am lapsing into reverie. What Jorgito said is indeed true. When he was a slave, he constantly complained about his boss and constantly got stressed out. That time his illness was worse, and he was worried about his rectal bleeding at no end. However, he is now in his own way and doing what he loves, somehow his condition of the illness is getting better. On top of it all, he looks happier by comparing to three years ago when he visited Japan. That moment I had spent one of my miserable periods in my life there, too. I was constantly depressed and stressed out because of my ashamed job and unimaginable mean colleagues. I had forever suffered from their meanness and churlish behaviour. The work environment made my illness unbearable, that I have no doubt. However, like Jorgito, I am now doing what I love every day, I am far away from Japan and mean colleagues, and I am happy by surrounding with my friends in Mexico, my illness has been getting better magically as if I had never suffered from it. I still cannot forgive my diabolical colleagues for showing me unpardonable wickedness and making me yell at the top of my lungs in the public from desperation, “I am a shit man!” Whenever I think of Japanese meanness and devil-may-care demeanour, my blood is boiled by rage, and a revolting shudder shoots through my whole being.