Iwas awake long before the alarm went off that morning.
For most of the night, I just stared into the darkness.
I was absolutely, completely, utterly miserable.
It had been a day and a half since I ran away from Giorgio’s car in tears.
I couldn’t sleep… I couldn’t eat… I could barely function. I was a zombie.
The night it happened, I called my boss and said I couldn’t come in to work the next morning.
That turned out to be the wrong decision. I huddled in my apartment all day, listening to the news about the shootings at the Ponte Vecchio and a local hospital.
I knew both were linked to Giorgio and his bosses.
I tried telling myself, You dodged a bullet, girl –
But that didn’t work.
All I could think was, Is he alive?!
I wanted to call him so badly – just to find out if he was okay –
But I forced myself not to.
I’d broken up with him for the very reason that was plastered all over the news.
What was I going to say?
Oh, you’re okay? Cool.
Well, I just wanted to make sure you weren’t dead.
Now don’t ever contact me again.
Even worse, I was afraid if I called him, I might get nothing but his voicemail…
And I would have to confront the possibility that he was… gone.
Forever.
When the alarm started blaring, I made myself get up. I couldn’t stay in my apartment again alone with my worst thoughts, so I forced myself to go through the motions of getting on with my life.
Maybe work would keep my mind off the horrors I kept hearing about on the news.
Probably not, but at least I could try.
I did pretty well at first. I took orders, made espresso, cleaned glasses –
And then a young couple came in, obviously in love, their arms wrapped around each other’s waists, kissing at every opportunity.
I was able to hang on until I fixed their coffee. Then I ran into the bathroom sobbing.
At least I made it two hours.
Now I just had to make it another six.
My boss knew something was going on with me, so she’d scheduled another girl named Anna to come in halfway through my shift.