Into another

Figueira arrived a little late for the session today. And no, I didn't ask Figueira to a session on Saturday. Even today, he seemed tired as a dog. Even panted sometimes. The kid has been burning the midnight oil lately. And it's just the Regional, there is so much more for the State level of the tournament. He sat down, asked for water, I offered some strawberry juice and of course he yielded to it. We started talking about many things. But especially about the Column. The Column didn't even look me in the eye, though he knew my presence there had a special meaning; somehow he noticed that but didn't talk about it. Since the two didn't have private conversations all the time we were together, he didn't really bring up the issue. Figueira confirmed he said nothing about me. My profile is still low and I want it to remain this low.

The music was soft and the minds were right there where we stood. Couch and armchair, we took that ride inwards. Eyes shut, could see my living room exactly as it was. Figueira is beside the armchair now. Looking at himself on the couch. And he is squatting right beside me. I stand up and it's me sitting in the armchair. I saw myself there sitting, it's strange to think that Figueira accepted so easily seeing himself lying on the couch, a kind of sight that usually pushes the explorers into their bodies again lest they lose all connection with them. At least that's what they fear, but not Figueira, he rather seemed curious about looking at himself from the outside.

"What are we going to do?", he asked.
"Wait."
"Wait for what?", he was slightly impatient already.
Good question. Wait for what? Figueira walked through the room, looking at the furniture as if he had different eyes now. He looked through the window and called me. He pulled the blinds aside so I could see the street. There was a kid on the other sidewalk facing my house. Figueira and I were looking at him for long. And he was looking at my house, there is no shadow of doubt. He looks as tall as Figueira. I was staring at him, had never seen him before. Figueira seemed to know him. And he was disturbed. And he was in distress. And he was mad. He told me it was the guy he had disabled in a fight. He asked me if he was cured. I said he hadn´t been harmed yet.
"You mean we can undo what I did?", he seemed hopeful we could. I quickly told him it couldn´t be undone. We were just looking into his past. The most we could do was to get in touch with people and affect their memories, adding things where they could otherwise never be added, and cited Zangrandi's case on Friday.

We kept looking at the kid. He examined the house from a distance, seeming to think about what to do next. And he didn't take long to decide. Started crossing the street.
"He's coming", I said and got nervous. Because I simply didn't know what to do and I am expected to. Who'd solve that problem? Figueira? No. He did create the problem on fighting with that kid.
"Why is he after you?", I asked, even knowing my question would be pointless, as it didn't matter what caused it, but what we were going to do with it.

The boy was in front of my house now. He rang the doorbell. Once. Twice. I told Figueira we could not hide. It was just a kid anyway. Figueira said he had a switchblade knife. I did believe him, but bet on dialogue. I couldn't have betted on a worse alternative.

As I opened the door and went outside, the kid asked me, on the other side of the wall, if Figueira was in. I asked what he wanted with him and his response was drawing a switchblade knife from his pocket and pointing it at me. Then, he jumped over the wall and would have stabbed me if Figueira hadn't pulled me back by the clothes. We were back in my living room. Figueira opened his eyes, looked at me for long with a desolate expression and came to a sitting position. He asked me if I was afraid. I said no. I'm used to experiencing worse things still.

"You still haven't told me who the guy is and why you did that to him. I see now it was self-defense, but what happened to the two of you?"
Figueira told me they had a row at school. The kid didn't belong to any of the gangs in particular, but was dying to join one. I asked Figueira another pointless question, at least pointless at that specific moment: why the heck he'd get involved with gangs. Figueira helped me ingnoring my question. Went on to say the kid was a bully at school and promised to catch him at the end of the classes. Figueira wasn't intimidated at all and was attacked on his way home. Reacted, disarmed him and applied him a lock. He told me he let go of the kid immediately upon hearing a snap. His blood went cold, shivers cut him up and down at the horror of realizing he didn't remember the real power of the lock he applied. The horror of knowing he'd have done better if he had taken his life altogether. Things we never think can happen to anyone of us until they rear their ugly face.
When the police finally approached the scene, Figueira had broken the kid's column already.

He started sobbing. His eyes watered his face all over. I got tears rolling down too, I just couldn't help. I should inspire confidence. Sometimes you just don't manage to. I decided to suspend the sessions with Figueira. He surprised me, saying he wanted to do it once more at least. I struggled against the idea but gave in. Said it would be the last and we had it scheduled for one day after the Regional Tournament.

Centenaria | When the masonry is coming down

Radio Universal: The Making Of A Thousand Gods.