Einsamkeit ; A Germany/Italy Story

Chapter One

The fall weather had settled over the small Italian town with gentle grace. Soft autumn leaves peppered the cobblestone streets with golds and reds, and the yearly harvest festival was in full swing throughout the streets. It was nice to see. The laughter of families and small groups of friends filled the air and was complimented perfectly by the smell of wine and fried street foods. It was peaceful and made the small town produce a warm atmosphere despite the chillier weather. On days like this, it was almost hard to believe that the war had even happened at all.

"Grazie" Ludwig thanked, stumbling slightly over the word. He was still rather clumsy with the Italian language, it seemed too lyrical for his tongue to wrap around.

The stall owner glanced at him with a disapproving expression, only grunting a bit in response to the thanks. This came as no surprise to Ludwig, he often received this sort of silent treatment. His thick German accent was hard to disguise and even after nearly a year his Italian still wasn't the best, however it was just something that he had learned to ignore. The man wordlessly handed the loaf over and took the banknotes that were offered by Ludwig's gloved hand for payment, whereupon the stall owner turned his back as soon as it was possible to do so. Ludwig tucked the warm bread against his side, it was a welcome feeling. His coat was thin and only did so much to stave off the chilled tinge of the fall air. The warmth of the baked goods spread across his side in a comforting wave. He tried to keep both hands on the thing to hopefully bring some warmth to them as well. He'd been out here for hours and now that the sun was starting to sink below the horizon the mild chill was turning colder, Ludwig was grateful that he was on his way home for the evening, soon he would be sitting with a pot of stew, a fresh loaf of bread, and a new book that he'd just started.

Ludwig started on his path home from the market, bobbing in and out of the crowd in an attempt to avoid knocking into any of the passers-by. As the sun set, more drinks came out as the children went home and the nightly half of the harvest festival was beginning. Ludwig was more looking forward to a quiet evening at home and would put off the nightly celebrations for another day. He began to think about how nice it would feel to get off of his aching feet, 9 hours a day in a factory was draining and he was thankful to be on his way home, the pay was meager at best but he was thankful to even have a job. It was a miracle he'd landed one in the first place and so he found it hard to complain too much about the workload or the hours, not only that, but he was far from somebody afraid of hard work. It had to be done and Ludwig was going to do it. That's just how it always had been for him, even in his younger years.

Ludwig had been so lost in thought as he walked that he had not had time to react when the back of somebody's hand came swinging directly into his face.

Before he even realized he'd been hit, a sharp pain spread up the bridge of his nose, he hadn't been hit hard it was just the fact that he'd been taken off guard so suddenly with a direct blow that caused him to immediately stop and put a hand to the area of impact, his eyes watered a bit in reflex to the pain and Ludwig cursed before rubbing over the area with his fingertips. Whoever had just hit him was about to get a serious lecture-- He looked up to see whoever had just smacked him, expecting it to be a drunk that hadn't been paying attention, however, he was a little surprised to see a short, brown-haired Italian man staring up at him with a look of absolute horror on his face. He was clutching his hand to his chest and he looked like he was bracing for impact.

"Oh! Oh no, mi dispiace così tanto! Non stavo prestando attenzione ed ero così eccitato! Non ti ho visto lì, grande Uomo dall'aspetto spaventoso, per favore non colpirmi, era solo un incident!" The Italian man spoke fast and it was hard at first for him to keep up with what he was saying, the pain dulling his ability to understand the Italian language at such a fast pace, however before he could even try to get a word in, the Italian man continued "Adoro davvero davvero i pomodori, non li vedo da così tanto tempo che speravo di fare un po 'di salsa di pasta per la cena di pasta stasera, mi dispiace davvero, ti prego, non colpirmi!"