When I enter the newsroom, Dora pretends not to see me. She slips away like a gray shadow. I feel her hostility. Who knows, maybe one of these days I could benefit from it. Bullying is fashionable. A person I know figured it out a while back, he’s living the good life. I sit down at my desk, turn on the computer. Around ten o"clock Butz walks past, with a brand new trolley. It still has the label dangling from the handle and there is not a speck of dust on the wheels.
"Where are you going with that thing?" I ask him.
He looks at the suitcase.
"Nowhere. Why?"
He glances at the clock and walks away dragging his toy. He didn"t say anything about the article but I know he’s keeping an eye on me. He wants a new piece about the waiter of Via Santa Caterina. The fact is that I have alread
