Salvatore DiMarco / Diego Rossi
She didn't ask me to delete her number. Her words were not an invitation, but they were not a f**k off message either.
I will count my blessings…
I smiled for the first time in six months. I dared to feel something different from the despair that has been consuming me; I dared to feel hope.
I made my way downstairs and sat at the table. Nonna looked at me, and she smiled. “You don´t look like the ghost you have been…” She pointed out, and I nodded.
“I am feeling better, only one and a half years to go,” I said, opening the fabric napkin and spreading it on my lap.
“Good to know you are feeling better,” Nonnas said, setting a plate of lasagna before me.
“Thanks, Nonna,” I said, and she smiled.
“It is good to have you here, bambino…” she said a
