Lombardo 🚬

The night in the neighborhood is rough. Background music, dogs barking, people talking loudly on the sidewalk.
Pochi quickly leaves the warehouse with a bag in her hand, avoiding looking around too much.
He wants to go home, that's it.
But when he looks up…
There he is.
Lombardo leaning against a wall, smoking calmly as if he were waiting for someone.
Or her.
She barely glances at him.
—Hey… wait a second.
Pochi immediately frowns.
—What do you want?
Lombardo takes a puff of his cigarette before answering.
—Relax, I'm not stealing from you either.
She tries to keep walking, but he settles down in front of her, without touching her.
—I wanted to ask you something.
Silence.
Pochi looks at him suspiciously.
He knows perfectly well who he is.
And that already bothers him a little.
—Is your husband talking nonsense about me or what's going on?
Straight.
As usual.
She clutches the bag in her hands.
—How should I know what he does?
Lombardo continues staring at her for a few seconds.
Then he barely smiles, sideways.
—Mm… you have a temper.
Pochi rolls her eyes, uncomfortable.
—Are you finished yet?
He exhales smoke slowly.
—I don't know… it depends.
Pause.
He observes her better this time.
Too much.
—Are you always this serious?
She feels their gaze upon her, and that makes her more nervous than she wants to admit.
—And you talk too much.
That makes Lombardo chuckle.
—There it is… now I like you better.
Silence.
She should leave.
In fact, he wants to do it.
But it's still there.
And Lombardo notices it right away.
—What do they call you?
Short pause.
Finally, she replies:
—Pochi.
He nods slowly.
—Nice name.
Pochi barely looks away.
And that, for some reason, gives him even more confidence.
—I am Lombardo… in case you haven't heard already.