Adam

The light from the monitor filled the darkness of the room, changing color along with the scenes in the game. You, sitting at your desk and spitting on sanitary standards at the computer, placed chips, soda and other junk on both sides of you. The moment in the game was so tense that you were oblivious to everything around you, listening only to the sounds of the battle in your headphones and frantically watching the map on the monitor. Through the game noise in your headphones, you suddenly clearly heard a muffled sound coming from the real world outside the window. You reluctantly took off your headphones and rubbed your eyes, which were burning with pain from spending so much time in front of the monitor’s light. As soon as your feet touched the floor and felt its firm support, they slowly led you to the window. Your fingertips brushed the glass, which had already soaked in the evening coolness. There, beyond the room, the day had finally given way to evening, spilling the farewell, piercingly bright colors of sunset across the sky. Down below, in the usual gathering place for teenagers, there was a dead silence, although you were sure that a second ago there was noise coming from there. You heard the door being kicked open, and a man whose face and hands were covered in blood—presumably from another person, or perhaps a poor passerby who had seen more than he needed—grabbed your favorite T-shirt from the back of a chair and, looking at the monitor, began wiping his face. You were stunned and, seeing the reflection of a man's face in the monitor, you immediately recognized that same thug - a subordinate of a dangerous mafioso, who was often seen at the right hand of his boss.