Screams

A woman’s unbearable screams wake me up. I jump out of the bed, get dressed and go out onto the street. Wrapped up in my seven colour scarf, I go for a walk and live over the city and the noise. I pass by the shop windows, look at dresses and shoes, until the sleepiness comes back and I decide to go back home.
The frame of the scene on my doorstep is the following: there’s an ambulance, there are some doctors, policemen and neighbours. The body is surrounded by them, they touch it unashamedly, discuss with excitement. I’m trying to get closer: "What’s going on?" I’m asking. No answer. "What’s going on?." Silence. "WHAT’S GOING ON?!" I’m shouting. "THIS IS MY HOUSE!" I insist. No one answers.