My Personal Angel

It often rains in our city, and sometimes it's difficult to differ the day from the night. Almost always the sky covered in dark gray clouds. Maybe because the city itself is a port, and the endless splashing of the raging sea.

Now is a difficult time. We earn money with Erica as we can: we donate blood, we collect bottles, we distribute leaflets. I work as a loader, she is a cleaner. But everything earned is spent on renting a small one-room apartment in a seedy district.

I often ask myself: "Why is this happening to me?" What did I do wrong?" But still I can't find the answer.

A few months ago a plane crashed near our city.

It is rumored that one of the passengers in the business class was a well-known sheikh, who carried a large amount of money with him.