Stop everyone, this is a robbery (at the Inter headquarters)

Suddenly, a scream. “Stop everyone: this is a robbery”. The accent is Milanese, the tone of voice does not allow for replies. The balaclava pulled over his face is a signal, the gun is a certification. She really is a steal. The employee behind the counter – a sixty-year-old gentleman – feels faint, pales, gasps, clings to a chair to keep from fainting, but his knees give out, so he collapses. And as he falls to the ground he thinks that he would have expected everything, not to be robbed there, at his workplace, in the Inter headquarters in via Foro Buonaparte at number 70, at half past six in the afternoon of any Wednesday in July . Silence falls in the room, but it’s only for a moment. Then events accelerate, as if they had been attacked by a frenzy that suddenly upset the order of things.