Beforehand, I ask forgiveness to the families of my fallen brothers, for I am not here to honor their lives or to mourn their deaths. To honor their lives would be like describing works of art with mere words; and to mourn their deaths, like complaining to the gods about the inexorable.
He would thank God for the vibration in his pocket, but he is not that hypocritical. His beliefs are extremely scarce nowadays: the Glock 22 at his waist is one of them; God does not make it to the list. But it is with heartfelt gratitude to the goddess Fortuna that he does one of the things he hates most and picks up the cell phone in his pocket — at least his trance is over, and he finds the necessary decisiveness to exit his daughter’s room. He does not look back as he gently closes the door.