The indelicate sound of dark water droplets from the leaking rusty faucet in the depths of the night felt like hammer blows.

The unrhythmic sound along with the fatigue of his body prevented Liman from sleeping. His bags under his eyes seemed to take on the color of the black water that was now beating against the iron of the sink.

Leeman could have overpowered himself and renounced that sound, entering a welcome world of emptiness for his tired mind.

But the rumble of automatons coming down the street, pounding away at the rubble and stone paving with their weight, thwarted the peace for him. Sometimes he thought he could hear them breathing.

The very thought of it stirred him, for they had nothing and nothing to breathe. What if they had bodies built into them?

What if these machines had human bones instead of a skeleton? Maybe people could not give their minds to metal, but they could transform the body into something new, magnificent and terrible. A finely honed mechanism whose work is not interrupted or altered by external stimuli.

Screws, grease, gears, fastenings and pipes are inert to any emotion.

The mechanism works, and the bones give meaning to its work.

Or not bones?

Bone marrow? Brain? Networks of neurons? The last ego in their electrical impulses?

Because of the swarming thoughts and the body shivering caused by them, Leeman had to get up and take a drink of water, trying not to think about it as much as the color of the water he drank.

Involuntarily, Liman ran his eyes along the ceiling in search of his old roommate.

And in one spot across a crack in the ceiling stood a Butterfly. Her wings of iridescent blue color flowed smoothly to black at the edge. Butterfly was cleaning her trunk and occasionally patting her wings.

- Listen, insect, find another home! - Liman grumbled unhappily when he noticed it.

The butterfly, ignoring him, continued to clean its trunk.

- You're lucky you don't have a clapper! For two months you've been annoying my eyes, if you were at least white in color, it would be prettier. And anyway, you don't live that long?

While Liman was standing and thinking about how to make sleep come closer and whether it was worth using folk methods, loud conversations began to come from downstairs as the last straw for his nerves.

(He hadn't lasted two weeks, and now he was talking again.)

Liman, in a fit of anger, quickly left the apartment, slamming the door loudly. The vibration from that was so strong it even alarmed Butterfly.

Going down to the lower floor, he began to pound insistently on the wooden door, using both hands.

The longer it went unopened, the more force he put into it.

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The man was awakened by a loud knock. It took him a few dozen seconds to come to his senses.

- W... What is it?

His wife soon woke up too. In the middle of a quiet night, a persistent sound would make anyone fearful.

- Go to the little one, stay with her. I'll see what it is. - Said the man with a stern face, looking into his wife's eyes.

The man, without changing his clothes, headed for the front door, secretly taking a kitchen knife with him.

As he walked to the door, the rumbling grew louder and louder. The door, which came into view, shook from the force being applied to it.

Removing the hinges, he opened the door.

-I told you not to make any noise.

He was greeted by a black-haired, long man with a disgruntled face, some parts of his face scarred. His green eyes looked directly at him. And the abundance of scars in his eyes was striking.

- I told you to be quiet. I told you, one more time and I'll flood your apartment. - The man continued his angry triad.

The man was stunned, it was the first time he'd seen him. He and his family had moved into a new apartment two weeks ago, because of his busy job he had no time to get to know his neighbors.

-Man, this is the first time I've seen you, go away nicely- -Shouted the man to Liman, clutching his cutlery.

- You got your memory blown out by the alcohol again? For the second time in six years- Liman got even angrier at the man's words. -I'll pour moonshine into your stomach.

The dazed man was grabbed by trembling hands. Without expecting it, the man fell into a stupor, forgetting his knife.

- I'll have you choking on degrees! A happy repose for you, isn't it?

From the sounds of the quarrel, all the neighbors on the nearest two floors woke up and came out to see the situation.

Seeing Liman, the neighbors looked at the man sympathetically. Without getting involved in the situation, they murmured amongst themselves, some of them walked back home, on the way to their houses they stood in admiration, noticing a butterfly of a lovely blue like ocean color flying under the ceiling.

- Daddy - The man was brought to his senses by his daughter's voice.

- Anais! Get back in the room - The daughter's voice was followed by the terrified wife's screams.

The man felt small hands pulling his back. Fear for her made him furious. At the last moment before giving in to his anger, he threw the knife away.

- Get away from Daddy, get away!" shouted the crying child, looking behind his father's back.

Liman was stunned at the sight of mother and daughter. His bewilderment was interrupted by a heavy blow to his father's face. A follow-up punch to the stomach knocked his breath away.

Pain, it sobered faster than sleep. Sleep deprivation and fatigue disappeared in an instant, freeing the mind, and a clear consciousness tasting the pain in full and the sensations it brought with it.

Compressed lungs, unable to breathe in the coveted air. The effort to breathe in her throat felt like a fire had been lit in her throat, burning the walls of her larynx.

- Agh... Ahem. Khaa.

In order to regain consciousness, you need to catch your breath. To catch your breath, you have to at least start breathing.

The man did not continue beating Liman. He stood in front of the open door, looking at him sternly.

(Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.)

There was only one thought in Liman's mind, and after a while it appeared to him as if embodied by desire. The cold night air cooled his flaming throat and filled the lungs that yearned for him.

After a few inhales and exhales, Liman calmed down and looked at the daughter clinging to her father and the mother yanking her away.

Taking one last look at the man, Leeman twitched and walked briskly to his apartment, shoving the neighbors away.

- When are you going to die! - An old man shouted at him from the crowd.

- Fuck off! - Immediately sounded the answer for the old man.

Liman returned to his apartment, where the same drops were still beating the same disorderly rhythm.

A groan escaped from Liman's mouth, the picture of mother and daughter never leaving his eyes.

(When did this alcoholic have a family? Two weeks ago he didn't have one.)

Wiping his face with his hands, Leeman looked out the window. The landscape behind him was still dark. But the sound of footsteps was gone, not even left as an echo.

- Shit! It was still night, how long would it last!

Leeman walked back to his bed, returning to his routine of trying to sleep.

- Maybe he should have bought a watch. Though time goes slower with them. Probably. No, I shouldn't. There might not be enough money, and it's a waste.

Liman fell into a half-sleep in the middle of his thoughts.