Luciano

The soft hum of coffee machines and a strong salty scent. A buzzing cafe by the harbour. Luciano had bright blue eyes, light brown hair and the kindest smile. But those who have the gentle smiles have suffered the most. Outside all seems well with Luciano. He exchanges glances with women who admire his allurement, he serves his coffees with a charming simper and would never speak any words short of kind. At least to other people. When the sun began to settle down, the little cafe would close. The hum of the coffe machines disappear and the salty harbour he would leave behind. He would drive home on his little white vespa, that kind smile, lost for a while. He arrives home when the night has arrived, unpacks his things and saunters to the bathroom. A cleaned razor sitting by his sink. He looked at himself in the mirror, and sighed heavily, running his hands under the tap, splashing his face with icy cold water, to bring him back to the hardness of reality. He was finally awake. Bags formed under his big blue eyes. Larger everyday, since it happened. 

Luciano made his way to the kitchen and sat alone on his wooden chair, cigarette kept tight between two finger. His house was cluttered, just like his mind. Clothes strewn around the rooms. Unwashed dishes, empty boxes. There weren't any picture frames on Luciano's wall, except one. A large photo frame of his mother, father and two little sisters, sitting by a beach, together like a family. Happy. A moment captured in time that is lost forever but never forgotten. Luciano could never give up the feeling of being happy, even if he felt it too long ago.