IRENA
Sunday the 3rd January
Once night falls I head to the bar, going around the back of the buildings on the opposite street. I climb up the outside of one of the buildings which look empty, grateful more than ever for my heightened reflexes. I reach the rooftop with ease, pulling out a small pair of binoculars from my backpack. I don't think I will need them, but it's better to be safe than sorry.
I lie down on the roof top, my head peeping out over the apex, 3 on Normanou street in my direct line of sight. I felt like a spy, and I had dressed for the occasion, black ankle boots, black jeans, a black polo neck, and black gloves. I settled into my position, as comfortably as I could, before beginning my shift of watching the building I would hazard a guess at housing a certain bar c
