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In the afternoon that same day, I took her home to see her mother and her sister. (as almost all afternoon Thursdays) I waited of three hours in the car instead of the usual thirty minutes. Normally she did not remain never more of an hour at her place for not meet his father. .I am only reparti about 17.00 hours because one opened the local one at 18.00 o'clock.
    She arrived at about 10pm when the place was filled with customers who had come for the evening's show. She ran in asking me for the keys to my car. I gave them to her automatically. She ran off with them only to return in a few seconds shouting that she had to talk to me, that she had something urgent to tell me. When I told her that I'd be right with her after I served the beers that I'd promised customers in front of the stage, she threw herself into my arms and said that it couldn't wait. She said that it was of the utmost gravity and that I had to listen to her now. She was trembling, gasping for breath, "My father…he was at the house…I couldn't get out…I'm so sorry, Nezir!". I didn't understand. I told her that it was probably a good thing that she confronted her father from time to time and that we could talk about it after closing. "You don't see!", she shouted. The laughter stopped in the lounge and heads turned our way. In a fevered whisper, without taking a breath, she gave me news, the importance of which I only began to apprehend, profiled in the dark shadow of a father whose only real passion was his hatred of foreigners," It's not so simple. He hypnotizes me… I'm like an eight-year-old when stares me down". L, my lawyer friend took her trembling hands and said, "Tell us what you want us to know, S". Her fevered whispers cut through my heart, every word was like a burning bullet. " I beg you to forgive me, I gave him all your money and he has the papers to the building. He's already talked to the immigration people and he'll be here with the police tomorrow!". I barged out of the club like a drunkard, blinded by the emotions that raged in me, my knees weak at the knowledge that a dream had come irremediably to an end. S. found me weeping, leaning against a building a few hundred feet down the dark, wet street. She wept with me, caressing my face and shoulders, trying to set things straight, trying to convince me that she could arrange things with her father and the police. I calmed down, more from exhaustion and hopelessness than from her hollow words of reassurance. She left me then and went home to sleep in her bed for the first time in two years.
    And for me it was my last night passed in my local !