THE CHEST MARK
Jax is awakened by a knock on the door.
He stretched his body in the sofa seat and ended himself rolling on the floor.
“What the h3ck!!!” he exclaimed and slowly opens his right eye while the other is constricting from the rays of the morning sun, trying to search the mobile phone that he accidentally dropped on the floor, grasping the soft, synthetic, personalized image of his favorite horse “Nova” in a black and white carpet, tracing its realistic features, and kissing on his face.
He bought it the last time he had a business trip in Saudi Arabia, a memory in honor of his sweet Nova.
He is gasping for air, lying on his chest, trying to fit his chiseled arm at the bottom of the sofa. [Oh, goodness! Why am I doing this the hard way?]
“Jeez... This is hilarious! My head is aching now... sleepless night means unhappy mornings for me. I couldn’t think properly!” he muttered while helping himself up from the floor.