Ebiel removes his medical gloves, as if shedding the remnants of a life that never truly belonged to him. He heads toward the director's office, his footsteps whispering across the floor.
He knocks. The door opens, her usual words coming first—sharp, without greeting:
"The usual visit?"
He nods silently, like an invisible signature.
The director, buried in her files as if searching for an answer she doesn't want, speaks without looking at him:
"Aren't you tired? Visiting an old man who doesn't remember you, no connection between you… ever since you came to this city, you've been seeing him."
No response. She lifts her head—he's gone. She ends up speaking to the empty air.
In a dim room inside the care home, sunlight slips through the window like a thread of memory.
The old man sits in his wheelchair, staring outside.
Time has carved his face, but his eyes remain sharp, untouched by age.
Ebiel sits in front of him:
"Good morning… how are you?"
No answer. He sits as if facing a mirror that reflects nothing.
"that night when they called me to examine you. I didn't know it was you… but I remembered all of you instantly… every laugh, every gesture… even Tig's laugh, the way he used to pat my father's shoulder… I never forgot."
Chibs doesn't move, doesn't respond, as if the words are falling into a bottomless well.
"Today marks my fifty-ninth visit. I repeat the same words… no response, no acknowledgment. I know you have dementia, and I'll get nothing from you… yet I can't even break the silence that hangs over this place. Goodbye, Chibs."
Outside the hospital, two large men stand beside their Harley motorcycles, talking. They wear black leather jackets with a devil holding scales on the back, like they walked out of an organized hell with no mercy.
A young man, barely twenty, passes by. His light skin seems to irritate them. He walks with a faint smile. They start throwing insults at him in street slang, but he ignores them, which only fuels their anger.
"What's with this faggot just standing there?"
"If you don't run, we'll rip your eyes out."
Before it escalates, Thomas moves. Ebiel watches in silence—then everything erupts. A brutal street fight breaks out.
Ebiel, standing beside his car, punches the glass. Blood runs down his hand, but he remains in control. He grips the wheel and drives, calm despite the chaos.
Later, at his workplace, he treats Thomas' wounds. The director walks in:
"What was that horrific scene outside?"
Ebiel: "He's my brother. Thomas."
Thomas, irritated: "You're the hospital director?"
Director: "Yes."
Thomas: "Thanks for being kind to my brother… eei—!"
Ebiel presses hard on Thomas' eyebrow, making him bleed.
"Stop whining. Shut up."
The director stands there, shocked perhaps even impressed.
"Nice to meet you ...Ebiel I want you in my office when you're done."
"If you're enjoying this, don't forget to add it to your library."