1. He can't stop thinking about him.

Mark has always loved christmas, since he was a very little kid.

And altough he was Jewish and the 25th of December was a normal day for him, he admired with a true pleasure pleasure all those razzle-dazzle christmas decorations, taking delight in the loving atmosphere that surrounded him. Having an old scarf wrapped around his neck - the one that was knitted by his caring mother such a long time ago - he felt that this once a year the world works like it should. People were filled with sincere feelings and goodness, and the remains of broken dreams stood up, ready to guide their owners towards a better future, that the New Year's Eve so solemny promised...

Mark stood on the kerb, swinging on his feet, with hands carefully hidden in his pullover's pockets. There he was, gazing at people who were passing by, looking for something he had lost... Or maybe for someone, for a perfectly precised and special someone.

Losing Eduardo was like losing the last living part of his chilling, broken soul, and it hurt as Hell. It didn't meant that Mark was unhappy, of course. He didn't give such silly things, like losing a friend, the power to affect him. But losing a soul was something different. Facebook was approaching 10 000 accounts and he didn't have anyone dear to share the joyful news with. As he realised it, the bittersweet feeling that grew in him became suddenly so strong, that it almost caused physical pain in his chest. He badly needed to do something mischievous, just to let some anger out.

He stopped the first coming taxi and told the driver to bring him home. And his current home was Plaza Hotel. After fifteen minutes he passed next to the guards and entered the lift. Crazy ideas kept bombarding his mind as he waited for the elegant door to open. He wanted to create something brilliant, but disturbing thousand-kilometer-long codes with no actual sense tormented him like an epilepsia attack. He took a hot shower, but it didn't help. Exhausted, he took his laptop and bunked down onto the bed. He opened the media player with music and the wordpad application and his hands started to write:


I can't believe things got screwed up like that. I need to talk you as soon as it's possible. If you are still in NY, contact me.



He couldn't believe his eyes. Had he really just written that? "I must have fallen asleep", he thought, pressing the delete button over and over again, even when the page completely blank. "I have to keep my consciousness. I have to...


don't you care about me anymore?..."

"Pangs of concience, that's soo stupid. Why should I feel sorry for what I did? This world is a battle and only the strongest survive... I have to be stronger!"

"Dear Mr Saverin,

signing a non-disclosure contract - clever movement. I hope you are feeling fine with your 600 million dollars. I want to let you know that...

...I can't stop thinking about you

and I can't stop thinking about you

- you never call, what do I do?

and I can't stop thinking about your love...

(Maroon 5 - Can't stop)