Lorenzo and I keep touching one another because the feeling that everything might dissolve is always there, just as he vanished in my new nightmares.
In them, I always lose him.
The blood wins.
Grief arrives.
But he opened his eyes.
Nothing can haunt me anymore.
I know nothing about love, but having something more secure than a tightrope beneath my feet makes me feel as though I can breathe again.
The compass is pointing toward the Griffin once more.
And it always points in the right direction.
“How long was I unconscious?” he whispers because we are still so close.
I think about everything that happened and try to smile without revealing the panic I endured, but he only stares at me, as though asking me to abandon my masks.
“Three weeks since Calabria,” I answer seriously.
I c
