I walk for a while until I find a safe public place. I stop in a crowded square where tourists take pictures, eat gelato, and speak loudly. I steal a sweatshirt from a distracted boy, pull it on before anyone can notice, and disappear into the crowd.
I twist my hair into a tight bun and snatch a pink cap from a girl leaning over to look at the fountain. The sweatshirt suffocates me in the scorching heat, but it hides both the black clothes I am wearing in mourning for Salvatore and the wound on my arm.
I decide to head to the train station and search for a public telephone.
One ring to Luce’s store is enough before I hang up. They will know how to find me, especially since Pandora helped me escape.
We are always there for one another.
If I went back to Lorenzo, he would certainly isol
