He studied the door carefully. With the machete he made some indentations in the wall, resulting in what he imagined: the plaster was dead; it would be easier to tear off the frame with the door and everything.
He was exhausted and, for the first time, he was hungry.
He checked that the frame had wood stains embedded in the wall.
He patiently gathered up his few things and, without thinking twice, gave a solemn kick to the door, which fell dead, with a crash and dust; in that kick was all the contained rage, for the unfair and for the time.
It was early. The hallway was dark. He found that other doors similar to his were open. Unhurriedly he entered each of the rooms lined up in the hallway. There was no one, he was the only liv ...