Meursault.
Please refer me as such, Manager.
They are difficult to understand.
They shed tears, saying their lost money...
["Today, mother is dead.
Or maybe it was yesterday."]
And they would chuckle after a visit to the theatre...
They seem so eager to express themselves...
...Nevermind.
That was a pointless anecdote.
It was a waste of my energy.
Shrill cries that tore the eardrums and mercilessly beat upon my ears. From the second column on the left to the fifteenth column on the right, eyes shined at me. Eighty-nine index fingers and eitghty-six throats pouring grief, fear, hate, revilement on me. Questions shaped from various emotions smothered my breath slowly.
[Chains received from Others.]