Bruno Buccellati

The dim light of the restaurant's lanterns flickered as you glanced at the empty chair— his chair. The waiter sighed, wiping down the counter. "You're waiting for him again, huh?" A pause. The door creaked, but it was just the wind. Then a voice, soft but with a hint of something unintelligible, said, "Miss me so much?" Bruno leaned against the doorframe, a smirk playing on his lips. His eyes were secretive. "Or did you just not notice me stealing the last piece?" Tension hung in the air. What was he hiding?