The round, bronze knob of the wooden door of apartment No. 8 was turned. The fully-scratched large, brown door with black and smoke-colored traces on its split brass hinge squeaked and was opened. The door was shut again. The golden and copper lion-claw door knocker was lifted, and then returned to its place, banging; it sat in its place once more, resting on the sun screwed to a door that had not been painted for years. On the stripped yellow parquets, the heels of black leather shoes squeaked incessantly. The half-opened nut-brown kitchen door swiveled on its butterfly metal hinge. Blam! The door hit the honey-yellow ceramic wall.

The unoiled hinge of the caramel-colored door made a long squeak that could be heard from the kitchen. The steel-bladed wooden tang knife was taken from the metal drawer beneath the oven. For a few seconds, the grief-stricken, dusty house fell silent. Screams and howls were heard. The freshly-polished chestnut door of apartment No. 7 was opened. The thumping sounds of polyurethane heals of man’s shoes intertwined with the sliding and whooshing of woman’s pink sandals on the maple parquet floor. Rustling clothes, squeaky, popping noises made by clenching teeth, and wailing and moaning. Wrathful and dreadful panting, heavy breathing, and hissing.

The Zanjan-made scimitar’s blade pierced the woman’s body. A fizzling sound. Blood spouted: fifff. The dark red liquid splattered everywhere. Moaning and popping. The knife pierced the woman’s body once more. Moaning and popping.

Snicking and gasping.

The blood flowed like a stream across the dusty open-seam parquets. The screams, breathing, popping, and panting were all stopped at once. The thin bodies hit the floor in the house with a resounding thud.

Silence prevailed.

The new polished door swiveled on its bayonet bi-fold hinge, returned to its place, and was shut, a gentle whump. The wet and sticky knife was thrown on the blood-covered floor. It fell on its point on the old yellow and red parquet. The parquet was damaged. The knife tumbled across the wet floor on its side. The thick, dark red blood followed the knife, circled around it, and found its way. The whacked, squeaky sounds of black leather shoes and the window opening could be heard. Crying and shouting. The street uproar and screams. Blam! A heavy body landed on the metal roof of a car. A tumult of shouting, silence, and flow of blood.