And the fly froze. Its front legs flicked, grooming its head, while its hind legs, alternating with the front ones, tended to its abdomen. Thousands of cholera and other dangerous epidemic microbes flew into the air.
Aman-Jalil breathed them in, but even the cholera microbes died as soon as they were sucked into the hump of his nose by the flow of air. Two fingers of the seven-year-old boy's left hand firmly gripped one end of a thick rubber band, while two fingers of his right hand stretched the rubber band across the other end, and his right eye aimed for the target. "In the head, only in the head, dark blood will splatter instantly, short convulsive leg movements, and it's all over … Or maybe in the belly?"
The restroom door clanged open, almost hitting Aman-Jalil. A young man emerged, already completely gray. Spotting Aman-Jalil wiping blood off the rubber band with his fingers, he cried out in despair, just as the fly buzzed:
– Hunting again, you scoundrel? Got nothing better to do?.. Go to the yard, play ball or 'frobbulate', you're learning to kill, let your hands wither…
The man tried to cuff Aman-Jalil, but he dodged and shot back:
– Bam!.. He's going mad…
– Wazir!.. What's gotten into the boy? – shouted the elderly, stout Aman-Jalil's grandmother from the communal kitchen. – He comes out of the toilet without washing his hands, spreading germs, bullying the little one. Mind your own business, everyone's poking their noses where they shouldn't, have your own kids, then deal with their "slaps"… All sorts of strays come here, making decisions…
And Aman-Jalil piped up:
– Half-baked fool!..
Wazir shook his fists in the air and stormed into the communal kitchen, shouting at Aman-Jalil's grandmother:
– Yes!.. "Half-baked fool"!.. They didn't kill me, despite my pleas. They left me to suffer, left me not to live, but to suffer and remember that road, as dusty and even as this glass, where my Anush fought like a fly, humiliated in front of me. They gutted her with a dagger while I was tied to a pole above her, beaten to make sure I didn't look away, forced to watch, and they laughed, oh how they laughed… Yes, I will never have children… You, old woman, think about whom you are raising, think before it's too late…"
Wazir staggered along the veranda, murmuring, "cruel world, cruel world, trapped in this sticky web, all I see, I crave sunlight, sunlight! And, crucified, I shouted at the sun: 'I hate you!'"