"Some days she felt like she was swimming in lies, treading water in a sea of deception. One day, surely, she would drown in her own secrets."
*~*~*~*
Venetia Sarafian was never like other women. Rather than sitting back and thinking of how she coul...
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The small village of Positano rested quietly on the cliffside of Italy's Amalfi Coast. Only the locals ventured about the village in the early morning hours, leaving the visiting tourists resting soundly in the beds of their small hotels.
Amongst the busy locals was a raven haired woman, dressed in nothing more than a pair of leggings and a light weight tee shirt. A pair of running shoes cushioned her feet as she ran through the dirt paths that not tourist would know of. And with every step the woman took, a chain that hung around her neck with two metal tags dangling from it bounced against her chest. After years of living in the small village, the woman had grown familiar with the twists and turns of the terrain, knowing the best paths to take for her morning runs.
Other villagers waved or shouted greetings in her direction as she passed by, but she paid them little notice. She kept her gaze trained in front of her, only hearing the sound of her heart pounding in her ears. She ignored the slight burning pain emitting from her lungs, begging her to slow down and allow them a chance to catch their breath, but she refused to break her pace. She forced herself to keep running until a small one story four room home came into sight. Only then did she allow herself to slow down to a walking pace, taking a deep breath of the fresh morning air.
"Buongiorno signorina!" A boy no older than twelve shouted from his family's home next door.
"Buongiorno, Enzo. Come sta tua madre oggi?" The woman offered the young boy a smile. As she did so she grabbed a towel off the clothes line set up outside her home, using it to wipe away some of the sweat that had gathered on her face and neck during her run.
"Bene, voleva che ti invitassi a cena domani." The boy, Enzo, informed her.
"Dille che ci sarò," the woman promised before she headed towards her front door, a smile filling her lips.
As soon as she set foot inside the house though she froze, listening for any noise inside. After a moment she continued about her usual routine, tossing her towel over her shoulder and grabbing herself a glass of ice water. The whole time she was on alert, listening for anything out of the ordinary, used to the feeling of eyes on her. All it took was the smallest creak of a floorboard and a smirk filled her lips.
"I know my entertaining manners might be a little rusty, but I do believe it's customary for one to wait before they are invited in." She spoke in English now. She took a sip of her water before she turned around to find herself coming face to face with a man she hadn't seen in nearly a decade. "Oh, Phillip, I expect better from you."
"My apologies," Phil offered the woman a small smile as she took a seat at her small kitchen table. He quickly copied her actions, taking a seat across from her. "I wouldn't come if it weren't important."
