Thank you for everything

Chapter one

Gianna was rushing home to finish painting one of her favorite works - "Dream Guy" - as she thought. Taking her keys from under her coat, she impatiently opened the door of the house and awkwardly crossed the threshold.
Through her nose, the girl smelled something tasty coming from the kitchen.

- Gina, are you there? - Mom shouted.
- Yes mom! - Gina answered.

Gina hurried to the kitchen, as if trying to detect a treasure by smell. Walking on the cool floor, the floorboards creaked in a familiar, even cozy way.

- Hi, Dad!

Dad was reading the newspaper, and Fita, their poodle, lay down next to her owner

- Hello! How is school?
— Got an A for a project on the history of Italy¹.
- Well done. — Dad put down the newspaper, stood up and kissed his daughter on the cheek.
- All about me. - Mom said with a smile on her face. - An excellent pupil. - Dad rolled his eyes funny, and Mom grinned.

Gina smiled and kissed her mother, and then squatted down in front of Fita and kissed her on the nose.

- All shaggy! — Gina took a dog comb from the shelf and combed Fita’s face. The family member contentedly licked the owner's face.

Mom put three bowls of soup on the table.

- Sit down and eat.
- Mom, later!
“You’re too carried away with your painting!” — the mood changed, descending almost to a scream.

Gina didn’t answer and hurried to her room. She positioned herself on the sunny side, so when she opened the door, Gianna’s face was hit by the sunset-orange rays of the winter sun. They may not have warmed you physically, but they warmed you mentally. Light was an integral part of Gianna's life. She carried it within herself and spread it where it did not deserve to be born. She was probably the most pure and innocent person in her small Italian town.
Turning on her favorite Lana Del Rey song on her phone, Gina removed the fabric from the canvas. The easel was in the very center of the room. There was paint all around. The rustling film laid on the floor was covered in colorful blots.
The girl didn’t tidy her room—she didn’t remove the paint; she did not move her easel from the center, so her room resembled chaos and commotion.
A beautiful young man with blond hair and chocolate-brown eyes, like fallen leaves, looked at her from the picture. This is how she imagined her dream guy. Gina wondered what his voice, character, height would be like; what will he do? It seems that this already resembled an obsession with one’s own dreams.
Gina took the palette in her hand and put several paints on it, because yesterday’s gouache had dried out.
Touching the canvas with her brush, the girl was probably convinced for the hundredth time that drawing was the best hobby for her. She really wanted to become a qualified artistic specialist, but there were no prestigious schools in the town. But she couldn’t move to the metropolis—thus giving up her studies. And I didn't want to. In her family nest, Gina had everything mixed up: friends, family, school, and soul. But not love. Gina had never felt love. It’s strange that such a girl didn’t work out with guys. Most likely, many considered Gina to be an obsessive painter. She could not sleep all night - until she began to collapse - working on her paintings. And with the idea of ​​drawing “Dream Guy”, the girl became completely inadequate. It allowed me to skip meals like I do now. Because of this, she lost a lot of weight.

- No, Gina, it won’t work like that! - Mom stood on the threshold with her hands folded.
- What?
-You're kidding yourself! — the mother approached her daughter and ran her finger along her ribs. “The bones are already visible.” This is not normal, it's terrible, Gina.
“Please,” Gina swallowed the lump in her throat, feeling the taste of guilt. - Let me finish the picture, there’s very little left. And everything will be fine.