Fashion seems to have a different taste here, but maybe it's just the local red wine we use to wash down our lunches. We hear the waiters talking about us and our branded shopping bags, when they come by to take our orders Stephanie answers them in her perfect Italian. It sounds like music.
We return to the hotel and the brown eyed concierge flirts with us. His name is Fabrizio, Stephanie tells him to come by our room later, just in case he wants to see us try on our new summer dresses. Tu ce l'hai la chiave, no?
When Carl would visit us in the summer house he would always sleep in the room next to mine. I would lie awake at nights trying to hear his breaths through the silence, writing invisible messages on the walls with my naked fingertips: please come in and save me from the darkness.