I meet him at the corner of my house and we go to the supermarket to buy some beers. I've never seen him before in my life, but I feel like I've known him forever. It's older and looks a lot like me. We walked all night on cobblestone streets. We talk about women we're never gonna be with and cars we're never gonna drive. He takes a paper and a pen out of his leather jacket pocket, writes something down and gives it to me. I read it. It says: It is time for you to know the truth, not all roads lead to the heart. We bought wine. The grocery store girl asks us if it's not too early for us to be drinking. He ducks down, pulls a very small gun out of his boot, a beautiful silver gun, and shoots the girl in the forehead. He blows the smoke out of the barrel and answers: Now it is too late to ask questions. We keep walking and talking. We're going to a vacant lot to watch the sunset. He drinks and says this is where he comes to watch the sun die. He's right. He's so right to be a man who drinks so much and so fast. I borrow an albino's eyelashes to know what it's like to suffer looking at the sun. When it gets dark, he tells me that we have to go back to the same place where we had met. We return in silence. I want to tell him a lot more, but I can't find the exact words to do it. I've never walked on cobblestone streets again, nor seen a sunset as orange as that.When we get to the corner of my house, the cicadas are already bothering the lovers of silence with their singing. He tells me that he is going to take the train at the station and that he is not going to come back anymore and to entrust me to the Virgin Mary if I do not want to become him one day.
YOU ARE READING
I.C.U
General Fiction"Debbie Harry and Kurt Cobain; Luca Prodan; a city that burns; a freckled girl who leaves; a war on a mysterious island and a cursed writer are the flashes that run through the mind of a teenager who suffered a motorcycle accident."
