Damien sank to the floor near Karima and stroke her hair. In that moment he could no longer hear her mother’s cries of pain, he didn’t even hear the ambulance siren that had stopped next to him, he felt nothing but a strong pain in the hand that he rested on the girl’s head and in his head instead, he heard a persistent and deafening sound, he felt as though he had wasps inside his ears.
He got up, and saw that everything around him seemed to freeze. He ran away, far away, desperately, with his fingers in his ears, turning back to see if he was being chased by the lion that had bitten his hands, for they ached so much, but it was all in his mind. He ran far away and since then, he learned to live with those wasps in his ears and that lion’s bite on his hands. Forever.
The night that followed Karima’s death, she appeared to Damien in a dream. She was dressed in a white tunic and was luminous. Even her face radiated an unreal light. She wasn’t in a physical or recognizable space. Rather she was within a beam of sunlight and all around her, in the clear blue sky, the air shimmered, like the flickering on a hot tarmac in August, or in the desert with the sun at its zenith. Karima was speaking to him; her voice was a chorus of voices of different qualities, every word she said, seemed to be sculpted into his hands, as if they were indelible notes to be stored for the rest of his life. Karima brought him a gift and she left with Damien’s solemn promise not to tell anyone.
Part three (anonymous letter)
That Saturday night, the starry sky and the cool air were good reasons to go for a walk outdoors. An Arabian moon, cut out with precise definition, allowed a glimpse of the rest of the moon which was in the shade, just as a beautiful woman wearing a robe, reveals her figure through a fine silk fabric. The neighbourhood had already been asleep for a while.
The streets were going to be cleaned at three o’clock in the morning; therefore the area was clear of the cars that usually parked there. A summery wind, which carried a faint sea fragrance, played with a tin can on the ground, causing it to tumble from time to time with a metallic sound, which was the only sound in the silence of the night, when Damien opened the gate and walked out of his property.
Chopin walked silently at his side, turning his nose to the right and to the left, but in a distracted and bored manner, with no desire to go hunting.
Giovanni had already gone to bed. He cleared the table and rearranged the kitchen before going to his room; he said goodnight to Damien and told him that he had prepared a new flavour “Ainòs”.
“Tzu tusk! “ Damien made a sound to call back the cat.
“Miaooooo!” Chopin replied, turning his head back toward his friend who was already a little far away from him.
“Come here! Stand by Me! Psssssst! “
The cat stopped and waited for Damien, yawning. Then, together, with the same quiet step, they made their way to the store, just around the corner of the street.
Once they arrived in front of the closed door, Damien observed that the security guard had already passed by, for he noticed the white slip that proved he had passed by the store placed in a track of the shutter.
Next to that track, on the ledge, was the store’s mailbox. From the opening protruded a yellow envelope.
How strange... a letter, “why didn’t the mailman bring it to the store this morning?” he thought as he pulled it out with guarded curiosity.
Attracted by the colour of the paper, lit by the light of a nearby street lamp, a plump but still hungry mosquito went to lie on Damien's hand. And it died right then and there.
He felt, with a certain pain, the stab that pierced his muscle between his thumb and his forefinger.
“Well... I no longer can do anything for you!” speaking to the small insect that was already in the cat’s mouth.
Taking advantage of the street lamp, he opened the envelope, which was addressed simply to: “Mr Damien G.”, and was written and delivered by hand, because it had no postage. Inside the envelope was a chequered sheet of paper, the kind that can be pulled from a small notebook and in fact, it had tear marks on the top edge.
If that mosquito had not had the arrogance to bite his hand, Damien would have been able to feel, although slightly, if the sender could be a potentially receptive individual.
But, since his hand was sore, he put the paper in his left hand. He didn’t feel anything.
“What a shame!” He said to Chopin, who looked at him with his little head tilted sideways, and then, as if he understood him, (and indeed he had), he shook his head and sat down, waiting for the rest of the comments on the letter.
“Dear Mr Damien,
You sold an electronic cigarette
and a liquid refill with nicotine to my daughter,
who it is still a minor.
I'm sure It’s not the first time that you break
the Law and therefore I warn you that soon you’ll receive the visit of the Anti-Adulteration Squad, I’m sure that they will find something for which they’ll fine you.
Indeed, I hope so.
A pissed off parent”
A slow motion movie played fast in Damien’s memory, who tried to remember who that girl to whom he had sold cigarettes and nicotine could be, although he was convinced of the absurdity of those accusations. Surely it had to be something recent, less than a month ago. Could it be that he had sold a cigarette to a minor? No, it wasn’t possible, when he had doubts he always asked for a document. What if a friend bought it for her? This could be the most conceivable explanation.
How much time passes before a good parent realizes that his daughter vapes or smokes?
Oh God... it’s not hard to understand that your child smokes. Their breath, clothes, hair, everything is saturated with the smell of smoke. But it’s hard to notice that they vape! Of course the electronic cigarette is not a tool that comes on its own. It has a battery charger, a bottle of liquid, perhaps even a box, or a strap. A lot of things that need to be hidden, “Don’t you think so Chopin?” He questioned the cat by thought alone.
The animal stood up on its feet, walked around itself, as if he was chasing his tail and resumed the direction from where they had come. Damien folded the paper, put it in his jacket pocket and continued walking towards the main street.
He turned just a moment to see if the cat had actually taken the road home.
Part four (Massimo)
While Damien folded the anonymous letter, not far from him, Massimo put the letter he had received from the Italian Social Security Service in a drawer. In it was written that he was granted the attendance allowance he had requested for his elderly and disabled mother. That long-awaited financial help had finally arrived, and Massimo was to show up on the following Monday at the specific offices to formalize everything.
The letter, made up of just a few valuable lines, arrived on Friday morning. That Saturday night, before falling asleep, he read it over again. Good news usually heralds a good dream, as bad news brings bad ones. Without even thinking about it that much, Massimo related the many positive things that had happened to him in that