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Today was one of those Autumn evenings in the big city when the sun is standing on the horizon yet it shines weakly. Bright, but without warmth. On the streets and in the shadow of the building the fresh, cool breeze penetrated strongly while the rays of sunlight on the skin seemed burning hot. Nevon and his colleagues left the office building saying goodbye to each other. Tired, yet friendly.

   »Today was another day. Well, see you tomorrow.« Then Nevon set off straight home without thinking about it, simply leaving a hard day behind.

    For someone who grew up in the ghetto, he has achieved a lot. Both worlds are brutal in their own way. The ghetto, as we know it from the movies, is even harmlessly described comparable to what he experienced himself. While at his job at the bank he has to prove himself day by day. Nevon doesn’t complain. He knows that fate, or whatever it is, meant well with him and gave him a look that makes working between mostly white people easier. He simply looks likeable and sociable, even when he is in a bad mood. Fortunately, he does not have to pretend. He is usually in a good mood and he is grateful for what he has. When he thinks about it, he feels comfortable between whites. Everything works out so well with his colleagues that he no longer perceives any border between the two worlds he lives in.

   Nevon muttered to himself: »I still have something to get, but I don’t want to go far. The day was too exhausting for that.« Meanwhile, he looked around for a supermarket. He just felt tired and for a moment he unconsciously faded out everything around him. He turned around several times on his own axis while he looked around in the densely developed city center. He was tired and somehow desperate until he reached the bicycle path, although he failed to notice this. A cyclist passed by noticed the scattered Nevon a few feet ahead and began to ring his bell wildly, effectively rousing him from his thoughts. He was still able to dodge him by a hairs breath; instead upsetting his balance causing him to slip off the curb and into the busy street.

   As soon as he reached the street a massive SUV hit the unlucky man while the heavy vehicle attempted to brake. Nevon’s chest hit the hood with an audible crunch. You could see his bones giving way to the impact as he bent over the car body like a scarf. A millisecond later Nevon was flying backwards, landing a few meters up the road. Some people who observed this shouted briefly, or with a frightened face asked themselves loudly: »Is he still alive? It would be impossible for him to survive that impact!«

   Still conscious, covered in blood and completely broken, Nevon looked at the curb in front of him without being able to move his head or body. Only his eyes did not stop, otherwise even his thoughts were frozen to him. It only lasted a moment, during which he did not even feel his body. Little by little everything around him became dark and silent. He could not hear or feel anything anymore. Yet, somehow, his thoughts did not stop. He hadn’t fainted, nor had he died. He was still conscious.

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