”Make A Wish…
Woke up today and I tried to breath
instead I suffocate in lies of dreams
you’re never what you seem to pretend to be
inside myself I feel the need to be…
your martyr. whore the ex that you should never trust
the seven deadly sins that you will not discuss
my lovely creature is quickly losing all his charms
and he’ll be left with nothing and no one in his arms…”

**

My newlywed comes back in our bedroom and, despite the dim light, I can see he’s worried.
I’m resting with my back against the bedhead and looking at him.
He stares at me for a second, then, silently, grabs his jeans and starts getting dressed.
“Cosa sta succedendo, Dante?” [“What’s happening, Dante?”], I ask, trying to keep my voice calm.
“Penso che le cose stiano precipitando” [“I think the events are precipitating”], he answers cryptically.
“Carmen sta bene?” [“Is Carmen alright?”].
He sighs.
“A dire il vero, non lo so… Credo di sì” [“I don’t really know… I think she is”]. Another cryptic answer.
He shows me his back as he opens a drawer and grabs a clean shirt.
His scars stand out white on his skin. They make a good pair with his black tattoos.
“Allora riguarda Shane…” [“It’s about Shane, then…”], I murmur.
He clenches his jaw, buttoning his shirt.
“Devo trovarla. Voglio essere sicuro che non faccia niente di assurdo” [“I have to find her. I have to be sure she doesn’t do anything absurd”].
“Hai chiamato Marshall?” [“Did you call Marshall?”], I ask, frowning.
“Sì. È fuori città, dalla sua ex moglie. Sarà qui entro un’ora, sta tornando” [“Yes. He is out of town visiting his ex-wife. He’ll be here in one hour, he’s on his way”].
“E nel frattempo cosa farai?” [“What are you gonna do in the meantime?”].
He rubs his forehead and raises his eyebrows.
“Ah… Farò alcune telefonate. Chiamerò l’informatore di Marshall, gli chiederò di controllare che Sanders sia lì, che Shane sia lì…” [“Uh… I’m gonna make some phone calls. I’m gonna call Marshall’s informant and ask him to check if Sanders or Shane are there…”], he answers, pensive.
I don’t say anything and he stops, staring at me. He’s completely dressed, by now.
“Sei arrabbiata con me?” [“Are you mad at me?”], he asks, worried.
I half smile.
“No, Dante… Sono solo preoccupata. Stai attento”, [“No, Dante… I’m just worried. Be careful”].
He moves some steps towards me and kneels down, beside the bed.
He brushes my cheek and says nothing.
He just stares at me.