7
Open The Floodgates
27 June 1943
Pietro saw Stef coming through his half-open eyes. By the look his old friend wore, Pietro wished he could wiggle in with the buried instruments and throw sand over his own head.
Stef kicked at him softly. “Why do you hide in the coop like an old man tired of life?”
“It’s how I feel,” Pietro whispered.
“So, now you feel sorry for yourself?” Stef knew just how to needle him.
“f**k off. Leave me alone.”
“So you are the only one affected by this war?”
“We deal in different ways. Go do what you do and leave me alone!” Pietro begged.
“Have I ever left you alone?” Stef’s voice was matter-of-fact.
“Sadly, no. Now do it for once, and f**k off.”
“You shame me.” Stef’s tone emphasized his disappointment.
“Go be ‘shamed’ by someone else. Lots to choose
