The operation
When Italo started to heal me to pull the bullet out, I was still in a semi-conscious state. He fiddled with my paw, he worked and talked, talked and worked. I noticed that as he gradually recovered from his hangover, his voice became less raspy but at the same time he started messing up the words. Towards the end of the operation he was completely sober but he stuttered exaggeratedly, he became almost incomprehensible.
«Y-y-you know, I t-t-t-think that that we wiii-ll be f-f-f-fine together» he started saying.
Then, for once, he also basically told me the story of his life, and I was there being good listening to him. Even if in that moment it wasn’t the best of my aspirations, given that I’d much rather to have a good sleep to get my strengths back, I told myself it was
