Two Drops Of Water. Nicola Rocca

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Two Drops Of Water - Nicola Rocca

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      NICOLA ROCCA

      TWO DROPS OF WATER

      ENNEERRE

      Facebook:

      - Nicola Rocca ‘Pagina Autore’

      - Nicola Rocca

       [email protected]

      Cover art © Alberto Motta

      Cover design © Nicola Rocca and Alberto Motta

      Translated by Andrew Fanko

      Publisher: Tektime - www.traduzionelibri.it

      Any reference to real people or events is purely coincidental.

      Literary and artistic property reserved.

      All rights reserved.

      2016

      Summary

       PROLOGUE

       FEBRUARY 2016

       THE DEPARTURE

       NOVEMBER 2016

       MANY YEARS EARLIER

       THE BITTER TRUTH

       EIGHT MONTHS PREGNANT

       EPILOGUE

      For Sandra and Davide,

      who achieved their

      greatest dream.

      For all those who,

      like me,

      exist in limbo,

      straddling the finest

      of fine lines that separates

      two different worlds.

      N.R.

      "You will learn, to your cost,

      that on life's great journey

      you will encounter many masks, but few faces."

      (Luigi Pirandello – One, No One and One Hundred Thousand)

      TWO DROPS OF WATER

      PROLOGUE

      The room is in semi-darkness,

      the pitch black alleviated only by the dirty yellow light of a street lamp filtering through the window.

      Aldo Martelli stares up at the ceiling.

      It's an ordeal he has endured for years now - in and out of hospital. No particular illness, but he's ninety years old, and there's no cure for old age; it comes for us all, followed sooner or later by its trusty friend, Death.

      His throat seems to be closing up, every breath a laborious wheeze.

      All he needs to do is reach out and press his emergency button. A nurse would come running and fit his oxygen mask.

      Aldo knows there is little point; it would just delay his last breath for a few more hours. He may as well let himself drift off into that deepest of sleeps that he knows so well. A sleep that has been his livelihood for seventy years.

      Martelli Funeral Directors. Two shop windows and a preparation room.

      Thinking about it still brings a smile to his face.

      So much time has passed. It seems like only yesterday, but now his entire life has flown by.

      The weight pressing down on his lungs increases. Aldo may never have experienced his own death, but it is all too familiar to him. He can sense it.

      Now that his time has come, he's not afraid. Life has been kind; he can have no complaints. He has never lacked for money or affection.

      His thoughts turn to Mina, whom he married before either of them had even turned twenty. Gradually, images of their children come into his mind. Then the grandchildren.

      Their faces seem so real he can’t help but smile. Such a beautiful family.

      As his vision begins to blur from a lack of oxygen, another memory pops into his head. He thinks of the little white coffin and the secret he has kept for over thirty years.

      It was so long ago now, but he can remember it as if it were yesterday.

      He still can’t explain why he did it. Could have been greed; could have been a million and one other things.

      He deceived an entire town.

      He opens his mouth wide in an attempt to steal one final breath, and his eyes relax and fall open.

      Just a split second more of suffering, and the secret would go with him to his grave.

      FEBRUARY 2016

      A mia volta mi fido del mondo

      non ti dico le botte che prendo

      Non c'è modo di starsene fuori

      da ciò che lo rende tremendo e stupendo…

      (La linea sottile [The Fine Line] - Luciano Ligabue)

      CHAPTER 1

      03/02/2016

      AlfreDario77 20.02

      So you're not married and you don’t have a boyfriend?

      03/02/2016

      SadChantal 20.02

      Nope. Neither of the above.

      03/02/2016

      AlfreDario77 20.03

      How come? Must be your choice, right? There can't be a lack of interest.

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