It was 2 pm of a Sunday afternoon in Summer. The kid on the sixth floor wanted an ice-cream. He left his toys and walked out of his room. In the living room mum was sleeping on the sofa and dad on the couch. It was always like this on Sundays, after lunch. And he’d better not wake them up: they would get very angry. But he definitely wanted an ice-cream.
He approached the entrance. The door was locked, and the keys were too high for him to reach. But there was the balcony.
The kid went out in the balcony and looked down. ‘I am like Superman’, he said. And he down he went to get his ice-cream.
Translation by Stefano Bragato (edited by Irene Tossi)
