Beneath the Surface

The afternoon sun hung low as Arturo followed Chiara to her father’s apartment.

The ride to her father’s old house was quiet.

Arturo drove with one hand on the wheel, his eyes fixed forward like he was trying to outrun the memory of last night, the drinking, the breakdown… the shame.

When they finally arrived, she stepped out first, folding her arms.“Thank you… for coming,” she said softly.

Arturo