38-th floor. Just imagine it. He lives there. How I'd like it to go down in flames. I can visualize it: a 2500 degree firebolt bursting open the windows of a 120 sq.m. flat. A deep red plush sofa falling deown, right in the middle of the street. Half-burnt. Twisted steel framework, sticking out of the concrete wall. The skyscraper with a single eye ablaze.
You think you live, but I killed you in my imagination. You screamed.