The house was silent, an almost unnatural silence after the noise of the pub and Matteo's words still echoing in his head. Mario closed the door of the study with an automatic gesture and let himself collapse onto the sofa bed, a sigh weighing heavy on his chest. The lights were off, and the only source of light was the streetlamp outside the window, casting flickering shadows on the ceiling.
He ran a hand through his dark hair and stared into the void, but the thoughts didn't take long to assault him. His mind was a mad carousel that kept returning to her. Lara. She was out there, among the music and the dim lights of some bar, while he was here, alone, trapped in their "break." Waiting. He still doesn't know what to wait for. Maybe just for her to come back.
He pictured the scene unwillingly. Lara walking into a bar with her group of friends, her blonde hair cascading down her back like an invitation. She's wearing that white low-cut top that just grazes her curves. Those green eyes, veiled with melancholy yet still drawing gazes like magnets.
A guy notices her. Tall, confident. He watches her from a distance, sipping his drink calmly, with the faintest of smiles. Lara's friends laugh and joke, but then, with a knowing look, one of them gives her a gentle push toward him. Mario can almost hear one of them say: "Go on. It won't hurt to talk to someone. It's what you need."
