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The Commotion

" All they wanted was nothing more than to enslave everyone in order to be

a small group of elites who can continuously command the people, arrange everyone to remain submissive and obedient to them ", said Zepp. He spoke to Petro, the dog with the body wounds that have not healed yet.

Petro sat with its loyal and sad look, as if he understood what the man was telling it. Zepp rubbed it just before he got up, took some canned meat for him. He would be out in an hour to take Petro to the vet. He wanted the dog to be healthy and fat.

When he ate the can of meat, Zepp was sad because Petro only ate a little.

"You eat very little. Your appetite is bad." He said, then put a little container filled with drinking water for him. He still wanted to talk to Petro.

Sipping his coffee, he walked out of the courtyard followed by Petro. How quiet the courtyard was, as lonely as the house itself.

He looked around. The rusty old fence still kept last night's raindrops. Bast just fixed his bedroom and a little renovation in the living room.

Taking a few steps towards the wooden bench under the tree, he sat down, turning the coffee cup around with his strong hands.

The twist of his hand on the cup got stronger and stronger until he might have broken it. A flash of memory made him angry and wanted to smash something. The cup, or Petro. No. Not Petro. It didn't know anything. because the cup wasn't breaking . The ground was wet and soggy from last night 's long rain . He got up and grabbed the cup and threw it far out of the way . He heard someone screaming outside there.

Zepp walked towards the street . Someone must have been hit by the cup .

"Damn it! Bastard!" shrieked the person .

His cellphone rang in his trousers 's pocket.He straight away answer the phone and talking normally.He didn't respond the angry person on the road,as if nothing happened.

Ah, Nerida. She asked if he could recommend a good construction worker to work for Merida. Zepp thought for a moment, remembering a name. Best? no .Bust ? Bist . Oh Bast . Yes Bast . So he recommended that name and told her he would give him that person's address to contact.

Putting again his cellphone in his trouser pocket, Zepp walked calmly towards the angry person earlier. He was ready to apologize, but the person was gone. He could still hear the grumbling. Zepp thought whether he should chase after the person to apologize or let it go. He knew that people out there would increasingly brand him as a strange and dangerous person.

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