A raindrop fell in the gray coat, a last attempt to get under the small ceiling was frustrated by the crowd that had already claimed that space. A thunder preceded the bus, getting inside was difficult, but once there the rest was assured, a lone seat besides a window was vacant, and there he found his rest.
With cellphone on hands and headphones on ears he could enjoy the trip for some time. The match started to play. The initial minutes were nothing but several failures in scoring, one desperate attempt to hit from the middle of the field was done by a frustrated Simo. The first half ended with an unforeseen goal from Hank Andrews, he passed through the field with a slow but gracious pace and managed to hit the goal with just a second before Kondor tried to steal the ball.
The second half was a pathetic attempt to score and avoid the humiliation of losing to “some seniles” as Berka described them during training. The seniles got out of there with a victory while the Balqese team was left with nothing but a lesson to never underestimate older people.
As the destination was finally there he had to get out of the bus. The Central Bus Station was a magnificent building, adapted from the old Royal Stables the Victorian style and plaques remembered the days of old. The outside was rainy too, but nothing that a quick visit to a shop nearby didn’t solve. After crossing the avenue and the park the Train Station was in sight, it looked somewhat more modern and always has been a Train Station.
The waiting period was five minutes, people went from a side to another without looking around. The wood bench wasn’t very comfortable, but it was better than staying up. Finally the train arrived, and with it the old and serious Hugo Stariq. He was wearing the old green jacket that he received from his father and a suit beneath it, he didn’t smile or said anything when he was complimented, just nodded his head.
— So, how was the trip?
Nothing but silence proceeded. In the outside a taxi was already waiting, as instructed the driver had the news on the radio. Five minutes of reports about grain production went on before the sport session, when the last match was mentioned the old man had the will to speak.
— You managed to lost.
— We can’t always win.
— We always win. I have fought five wars for this country and my father fought ten before me. We never lost one battle!
That wasn’t true, but it was better to don’t mention this detail.
— This isn’t a war.
— Yet you manage to disappoint the nation. When the capitalists start the war your generation is lost, mark my words!
He had that memorized after hearing it for the twelfth time.
— So, how mom is going?
— Cooking and talking, as she has done for the last fifty years.
They arrived in the asylum, the nurse guided them to his father’s room, both of them stood there alone, the few baggage brought was soon in the wardrobe.
— So, did you get the tickets?
— Yes, Sir.
— I don’t know what you are planning, but if it’s illegal…
— It isn’t.
— Good, poor old Miklos would be held responsible if it was.
He laughed, Miklos used to prank him when he was a boy, maybe it was time for retribution.
— What are you going to do in that country?
— It isn’t for me, it’s for a friend that I am helping.
— Why?
He kept in silence for some time. He never thought much about that, maybe he just liked the foreign girl, maybe he just had nothing better to do.
— I don’t know, I just want to.
— Hope the judge understand. Now turn on the television and bring me something to drink.
. The numbers are based on both the number of times Cocoa-bo was mentioned during a given cycle as well as the number of different nations mentioning it throughout a cycle among other factors.
