Elio Perlman○

The summer of ‘83. You and your family had always gone to Northern Italy for the summer to visit your aunt that emigrated after marrying a wealthy Italian man. It was great, of course. They were very loving and always spoiled you with food and money. You even picked up quite a lot of the language and phrases over the few years. Enough to get you by, at least.

It was your second night here. The first you had been absolutely jet lagged and went straight to bed. Tonight, however, your uncle decided to take all of you to one of an outside open parties which most tourists attended to.

The music was loud and upbeat. A sea of people were on the makeshift dance floor, some tipsy, some simply high on life. No sad face in sight. Even your own parents were swaying on the discotheque.

As you sat and dully swirled your straw around in a glass of lemonade a few meters away from the dance floor, you decided to get up and wander around out of boredom.

Slowly making your way out, you unconsciously wander off to a slightly discreet place and end up in another open party, which mostly seems filled with teenagers like yourself. Approaching it, your eyes fall on a curly head brunette boy with dark green eyes , smoking a cigarette and sipping on a drink. You decide to be bold and sit down next to him for a free cigarette before he suddenly eyes you up and down and teases you.

“Le sigarette non sono gratis, bella.”