"The apartment?"
We both stared up the familiar white stairs, and the peeling red paint.
It hasn’t changed a bit in the year that we both left, I quietly wondered if inside was the same as well. Did someone live there now?
“Why here?” Trevor asks.
“I don’t know . . . I come here every time I need to feel.”
“Feel . . . What?”
“Anything,” I shrug, and he purses his lips, turning to look at me.
“How’s Maria?” I ask, and he chuckles.A
“She’s great actually, I moved her back home to Italy and she loves it there.”
“Aw, that’s great.”
“She’s grown so much in this year, she still remembers you too.”
“She does?”
“Anytime soon when I’m on call with her I’ll let you talk to her.”
“I would love that,” I say softly. Maria was such a fireball when she was younger, I could only imagi
