TWO DIFFERENT WORLDS
Two hours walking.
Three hours walking.
Time went by and my voice was already hoarse from shouting Bento's name together with John, but to no avail. A heavy drizzle began to fall and the temperature must have dropped five degrees, because the coat I was wearing was no longer enough to soften the contact of the icy breeze with my body. Near me, a distraught John rubbed his face, muttering a "damn", venting some of his frustration. I wanted to calm him down, however, I found myself not much different. My hands were shaking and I knew very well that it wasn't due to the cold, but to the fear that something had happened to my everyday companion. Suddenly, I felt my eyes burning. I couldn't cry,