Gap

Gap was the most independent journalist, working for himself, despite having only a secondary journalism education. His ability to find any information about a person or event frightened many - especially politicians and businessmen, who tried to appease him with money and connections. But Gap was not only not frightened, but was not at all attracted to it.

His mad love for the little cracks in history has always been with him - past, present and probably future, fueled by his addiction to rumors.

On another gray day, Gap sat in a half-empty cafeteria, sipping cold coffee and feverishly typing a new article about the recently appointed Minister of Health. His thin, nimble fingers could barely keep up with his racing thoughts, and his black, bottomless eyes, shaded by the light of the monitor, reflected the lines of text. The coffee had long since run out, but Gap continued to write, occasionally tucking his dirty black hair, which fell heavily almost to his elbows, behind his ear. It was strangely in harmony with his thin, tired face, which suddenly came alive, changing its expression to interest. Black eyes intently followed a figure sliding in the far corner of the room.

...