Clouds Of Smoke… The Story. Gianluigi Ciaramellari. Читать онлайн. Newlib. NEWLIB.NET

Автор: Gianluigi Ciaramellari
Издательство: Tektime S.r.l.s.
Серия:
Жанр произведения: Драматургия
Год издания: 0
isbn: 9788873040354
Скачать книгу
– your habit can’t win over your will, we’ll try every possible treatment to slow down the progression of the tumour”.

      These words echoed over and over in Sonia’s head; her thirty-four years of age had become as heavy as boulders, perhaps they contained all her life and maybe in another life, she would have lived longer. She felt old and out of place, all around her she could only see the uselessness of it all.

      What good had her commitment to her University studies done her, or the job she had recently undertaken as an architect, designing homes that would live longer than she would, even from their foundation stage, or the job that promised her a successful future?

      Then there was love. She put her love life on hold in order to study and now that she was finally exploring this new world together with her new boyfriend, her time had expired. Everything expired. Time had expired, beauty had expired, pleasure had expired, and she was running out of life.

      From behind the counter of the store, Damien saw Sonia, still standing in front of the window of the Doctor’s Office, which was just across the street from his store. He looked up from his laptop and took a better look at the girl.

      She also looked up from those condemning papers, she looked at her Breil watch which indicated a stupid and useless nine o’clock in the morning and while looking around her, she met Damien’s gaze. Although the shop windows were a little obscured, the interior light brightened and allowed her to see inside even from a distance. Sonia had a perfect vision of Damien who got up from behind the counter and started walking towards the door. A sign, the kind with colourful LED letters, lit up in the stained glass window of the store, the LEDs lit up and began chasing each other, reading: “Open”.

      A flash of lightning followed by a long loud thunder, tinted the lead grey cloudy sky with blue-violet for a moment. To Sonia it seemed that it had always been that colour. Now she couldn’t even imagine a different colour than the “Fifty shades of grey”; yet her life, unlike the film, had not been erotic at all.

      The weather promised rain soon, the air was particularly electric. The wonderful spring weather of the day before seemed a distant memory. On television she had heard that there would have been yet another return of winter weather. Perhaps one last sprinkle of snow, even at low altitudes.

      Sonia crossed the street as soon as the predicted rain started to harshly pour all over her. Covering her head as best as she could with her cellophane covered medical records, she ran straight towards Damien’s shop door, quickly opened it, walked in and felt a welcoming embrace that she gratefully accepted.

      “Thank you, excuse me!” she said to the man that let her in from the rain.

      “Don’t worry, - he answered, kindly - you’re welcome to stay here until the rain settles down, it’s no problem”.

      “Thanks again, but I don’t think it will stop soon!”

      Damien ushered the girl to one of the two armchairs in the store, which he used for customers in line or for those who stopped by for a chat, which happened often. He sat on the second chair, never taking his eyes from Sonia.

      She was a beautiful girl, blonde with a modern short haircut, tall and thin, with the right curves in the right places, she could be a model, with her graceful movements and tone of voice. She was wearing a suit, black jacket and pants with a white silk blouse, a little unbuttoned, she wore high heeled pumps which enhanced her ankles and well-shaped feet.

      Her hands were beautiful, Damien watched as she rested them on the arms of the chair; he would have liked to take them into his, to feel their softness. Surely she had a rare beauty about her.

      “Is this an electronic cigarette store?” Sonia asked to break the ice.

      “Yes, - said Damien bringing his eyes back to hers - one of the many that have been opened over the last three years here in Florence”.

      Meanwhile, it was really pouring rain outside.

      “I have seen some of them - said Sonia - but I never stopped to ask for information on these articles, maybe I should have…”

      She put her hand on the clinical records.

      “I don’t want to take advantage of this occasion to sell you something - Damien interrupted her, standing up – instead, may I offer you some coffee? I was just making one for myself”.

      “That’s very kind of you, - Sonia nodded – but, do go ahead, maybe I’m interested in the topic, you can tell me about it in the meantime.”

      Sonia’s frankness was disarming. Damien was fascinated by her and while he prepared the coffee with the electric coffee maker he kept in his shop and then, while they drank the two cups of coffee, he improvised an explanation of the e-cig that was brief, clear and comprehensive.

      It was obvious that Damien wasn’t very interested in Sonia as a new possible customer; rather he wanted to know more about her and her story, if she wanted to tell it to him.

      But she received a phone call that somehow prevented her from staying a bit longer in the store.

      She had to leave in a hurry, therefore she said goodbye to Damien handing him back the empty cup of the excellent coffee he offered her, and as if she wanted to repay him for his gracious hospitality, she pointed to a small statue in the showcase packed with various trinkets.

      “This is nice, is it for sale?” She asked indicating a little statue of a man sitting on an old suitcase with a hat in his hand. As she looked at it better, she realized that she really liked it.

      “For you it’s on sale” said Damien as he picked up the statue and handed it to Sonia, enjoying the chance to touch her hand.

      When she came into contact with Damien’s hand, Sonia felt a shiver down her spine, a pleasant feeling, while she noticed that the man’s pupils widened and their colour went from emerald green into an indigo blue.

      “Really, - said Sonia still under the effect of that sensation – how much is it? I like it a lot and I’d like to buy it for my office”.

      “I told you it's on sale, so let's say eight euros and the promise that you'll come back to see me and to try an electronic cigarette, okay?”

      Sonia opened her purse and took out the money, promised she would be back soon, maybe even on the next Saturday; she said goodbye and went quickly out of the store carrying the bag in which Damien had put the statue.

      It had stopped raining, perhaps not for long. She looked at her watch, it was nine o’clock. Still nine? Maybe her battery was dead? She decided to check it out later, now she had to run back to work, or rather, to her Office.

      Part six (a second chance)

      She ran towards the bus stop, the bus no. 29 was scheduled for 9:15 and, if her watch hadn’t stopped, calculating her twenty minute stopover at the store, she had probably lost it. The next one would pass at 9:40. So there was no need to rush. Walking, she removed her watch from her wrist and checked the dial, which appeared to be running again and it signed 9:10. Sonia thought that some juice would do her good, to regain a little strength following the bad news she had received and her strange encounter. She entered the bar close to Damien’s store, the same one where Massimo had stopped due to his urge to smoke a cigarette.

      It wasn’t a relaxing drink. As soon as they served it to her, outside she saw a parade of ambulances and police cars with their sirens on. People rushed out to see what had happened, even Sonia, who looked out and saw the cars trying to convey to a single lane, leaving room for the emergency vehicles, which were desperately trying to find a passage way in the traffic. From a distance, less than a kilometre away from her viewpoint, she could clearly see a black smoke cloud rising to the sky. For about fifteen minutes, she and many others, some patrons of the bar and others just passers-by, kept watching in order to understand what had happened. It had to be something serious.

      Some rumours were passed from one person to the other, bringing back news that was mostly unreliable. Some said it was a bomb,