Taking his hand in mine, still unable to believe that I am not dreaming, I ask him: —What happened? Where were you?
After an emotional reunion between him and me, I obviously couldn't allow the two of us to stay in the middle of my kitchen, with the backyard door open, and in the middle of darkness. So quietly, still trembling from the disbelief I felt after finding him, I carried him up the stairs to my room.
Luka looked different, not only aesthetically, as his blond hair was shorter, and he no longer wore the typical black gothic clothes that he used to wear at school. Luka had a duller look as if his eyes had lost the slightly evil gleam that had always characterized them, looking much more serious and cold than before.
Smiling softly, Luka asks me: —Where should I start telling you
