Chocolate Hills E-Book

G. B. Musante

• Herausgeber: Youcanprint
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2024

Beschreibung

Marco and Francesca meet on the flight to Manila, Philippines. He is determined to find at all costs his ex-girlfriend of whom he has not heard from for years, Francesca on vacation to see his beloved tarsiers live. Francesca soon discovers that her wonderful organized trip is just a scam. Tired and disoriented, she accepts Marco's help who in the meantime actively searches for his ex in the poor neighborhoods of Manila, learning that she has been a dancer for some time, down in the south. In Cebu they find the place where she worked and a considerable reluctance on the part of her former colleagues to provide news: in fact, none of them seems willing to get into trouble

Leseprobe

Contents

Titolo

Diritto d'autore

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Epilogue

Guide

Copertina

Start

Youcanprint

G. B. Musante

Chocolate Hills

(Blame the monkey)

novel

First edition 2023

Title | Chocolate Hills

Author | G. B. Musante

Translate by Nevia Ferrara

Cover image and graphic design by Elena Castiglioni

ISBN | 9791222716589

© 2023. All rights reserved to the Author

No part of this book, in whole or in part, with any

means and for any use, even for educational purposes, may be reproduced without the prior written consent of the Author

Youcanprint

Via Marco Biagi 6, 73100 Lecce

www.youcanprint.it

[email protected]

Made by human

To my daughter Karen...

“This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.”

Prologue

Dear Mum and Dad

I hope you will appreciate this gift from me for your 25th wedding anniversary.

A quarter of a century now looks with envy and nostalgia on that special day when you met, the prelude to your wonderful story.

Never a disagreement (dad says it's thanks to your eyes that have bewitched him), just some occasional physiological discussion, as you define it, mom.

Thank you for having put aside your last misunderstandings for my own sake, thus rediscovering your one incorruptible sweetest love, far from being over in all these years. Therefore, I wanted to pay homage to your deep love for each other, telling those days spent in the Philippines, and the first magical moments of your love.

Taking inspiration from the pages of your diary of those days, mom, and from your photos, dad, I drew this comedy of real life. You'll forgive me for some excessive daydreams (but you know I can't resist these things, I am fond of love stories) and some more dramatic points (and basically, I had to add something mine), but everything is genuine, and as close as possible to the real facts, I hope keeping intact your emotions and the brilliant irony that distinguishes you.

Your Cecyle

Chapter 1

The phone area was crowded and, as expected, no one seemed in a hurry. Marco looked at his watch again. Although there were two hours left before boarding, it was really annoying to wait for the blondie who had been using the phone for half an hour now.

It was her third attempt: she kept the receiver pressed to her ear, and with her other hand she was squeezing the handle of her pink trolley. She snorted a couple of times and looked up, and with a mournful air she repeatedly stamped her toe on the ground ‹‹Gosh, answer the phone!››.

She hung up the receiver, took a look around and at her watch and huffed, she put the handset on her shoulder and without quitting the trolley, she pulled out of her bag an address book which she skimmed over with her thumb, then dialed the number tapping hard on the keys of the phone.

‹‹Hello! Here you are! I've been calling for half an hour, you know? › she huffed, her eyes rolling like an owl ‹‹What's going on? The ticket is wrong, that's what’s going on!››.

She realized she had screamed, glanced warily at the line of people behind her. Meeting Marco's annoyed gaze for a while, she turned abruptly her back.

She lowered her voice further: ‹‹Check-in? Of course not, that idiot of your friend wrote the wrong destination, gosh! What's so funny?Hello? Hello!››.

She hung up, slammed the phone, and looked angrily at the departure board, then moved through the throngs of people waiting ‹‹Sorry, sorry…››.

Finally, Marco was able to call home. His parents hadn't exactly been delighted with his departure. Their last hope had been shattered the night before due to his travel bag ready on the bed. A furious quarrel with her mother had followed, who as a good lioness must have interpreted that gesture as an act of treason. In the end, after an exhausting coming and going from hall to bedroom, she hadn't uttered a word again. Now Marco was a little sorry. His father answered, but his mother, still angry, didn't want to talk to him. No big deal, sooner or later she would calm down.

While waiting for boarding, Marco approached the window, observing the departures of the planes. It seemed to him perfectly useless to sit down, especially with the prospect of the twenty-hour journey ahead of him.

He remembered what had happened a few days ago at his home. He could still see his astonished mother's face when he had told her.

‹‹Down there! And for that girl, then!›› she screamed.

And how she had said it, as she usually did in such cases: chewing angrily between her teeth what she tried to pass off as a personal consideration, but in a way that was heard clearly and without any possibility of misunderstanding.

The manifestation of wise maternal common sense had been accompanied by the impassive gaze of his father, who was immediately joined by the almost hydrophobic gaze of his mother for that "guilty" silence: ‹‹Don't tell him anything, huh!››.

Departed despite the contrary but always supportive opinions of his friends. They too deemed it useless to travel so far for a foreigner and all this impatience with him could only help persuade him once and for all.

Only after checking in Marco realized that he was alone this time. Alone in throwing himself into that kind of desperate adventure, and also the only one to believe it.

He sought strength and security in the smiling and relaxed faces of the other travellers, mostly vacationers. No, definitely this time he had been too rash, too impulsive.

At midday they announced the Philippines Airlines flight, the first useful one he had found with one of the last seats on board. It almost looked like a yellow post-it note left on purpose by fate.

Even though the seat was by the window and he didn't suffer from claustrophobia, he still felt oppressed and trapped. After placing the luggage, he took the tourist guide from the small photographic bag to continue reading. And think that he had ordered it from the publisher the day he had met Lulu. At the time he didn't even know where the Philippines was on the globe, and he had always been goot at geography at school.

A small pink trolley suddenly fell on the armchair next to him ‹‹Listen, sorry, could you help me put it on?››.

The hysterical blondie of the phones was sitting next to him! He smiled at her without saying anything and stood up to open the trunk.

‹‹At least something is going right…›› she murmured.

Perhaps thanks to his compact bag, Marco managed to arrange everything perfectly.

The hardest thing wasn’t fastening his seat belt, but convincing himself that everything was going to be all right. Marco gripped the armrests tightly, almost digging his nails into them, just as if he were at the dentist. He didn't close his eyes, it seemed excessive, he didn't want to become ridicolous. But he didn't even dare to look out of the window. And then the girl had already been studying him for a while with a cheeky smile as soon as she noticed his agitation.

‹‹First time?›› she asked.

‹‹Not really›› Marco said.

‹‹You may not think it››.

The blondie's unpleasant manner immediately put him in a bad mood, especially the mocking smile sported by those cherry-colored lips deeply irritated him. But maybe thos fly goggles made her look so petulant and unpleasant, thought Marco.

‹‹It was a military flight and I couldn't refuse› he wanted to clarify, but he realized he had worsened the situation.

At that moment the plane began to taxi, and Marco to sweat.

The hostesses did their utmost to provide the inevitable detailed explanations and recommendations in case of unforeseen events, which he prudently tried to keep as far away as possible, squeezing unseen, the best lucky charms in his possession.

He looked out at the girl with one eye. She had taken off her glasses and as if it were nothing, she had started reading. Certainly, sitting on a plane that could crash at any moment didn’t affect het at all! Marco finally decided to look outside. He was right next to the wing and couldn't help but notice a disturbing trembling, followed by various oscillations that didn't bode well.

‹‹Why did I do that?›› he murmured.

The blondie just raised her eyes from the magazine she was reading to observe him again.

‹‹Don't worry, in about ten hours this old wreck will arrive in Bangkok and deposit you safely on the ground›› she said, fidgeting quietly with her glasses, and calmly turned the page ‹‹I dare not think in what painful conditions you would arrive if you were to reach my destination›› she teased him again without looking at him.

‹‹I'm not getting off at Bangkok, I wish it were so…›› he replied annoyed and added in a resigned voice ‹‹I have to go on››.

The girl turned abruptly and hinted at a smile in front of that Greek tragedy tone. She closed the magazine with her eyes widening in an exaggerated expression of amazement, and and swept the unruly bangs to the side, holding it with her hand.

‹‹Come on! Are you going to the Philippines too?››.

‹‹Exactly››.

Marco realized that she had green eyes. Jade green to be precise and speckled with… boh another green.

‹‹Now, however, don't tell me that you too are going to Bohol to study the tarsier››. In reality, she was just hoping, but he was too good to be true.

‹‹No, I'm already unfamiliar with English let alone with the local languages and then I really hope I don't have to arrive to… what did you say it's called? Babbol, or whatever it is››.

She burst out laughing ‹‹Bohol, Bo-hol, got it?›› she resumed reading and shook her head ‹‹besides, the tarsier is a monkey, just a harmless little monkey, it's the smallest primate in the world, did you know that?››.

‹‹Would I?››.

‹‹No, but you didn't know anyway›› she laughed again ‹‹sorry, don't take it badly›› trying to remain serious she held out her hand ‹‹Perugini, that is, I meant Francesca, very pleased››.

‹‹Marco…››.

‹‹So, if you don't go over there I imagine you'll stop in Manila, however it must be something very serious to make you leave alone with your big fear to fly››.

‹‹Yes, Manila, exactly, thinking about it, I don't even know how I ended up here››.

‹‹Oh, you always end up saying that, inevitably falling into the trap of clichés, but most times it's just an excuse to lie to yourself, believe me…››.

Francesca was actually right. But he didn't think he should tell her about Lulù, the beautiful Filipina he had met one day in Genoa. Beautiful and sad, though. But then she had met him and over time he had managed to steal a smile from her, then a kiss and then all the rest. Marco tried to smile without success, resulting in a comic book character expression.

‹‹And, sorry if I'm curious… do you have the girl there?››.

‹‹Not exactly, that is, it's my ex…›› he replied.

Francesca seemed to want to make conversation at all costs, or obstinately meddle in his affairs.

‹‹See, you have a reason! Then I was right! Did you make up and get back together? ›› she insisted curiously.

‹‹The matter is a bit more complex…››.

‹‹I was only asking because in addition to being an incurable romantic, it seemed strange to me that you were traveling all these hours for an ex…››.

‹‹I need to meet you to resolve something››.

‹‹ Ah got it and… I guess she doesn't have a phone… ››.

‹‹You guessed it, mostly she is untraceable, instead before you said that you go there for the monkeys››.

‹‹Exactly for the tarsiers… a friend found an amazing package, listen: three days to visit Manila, and then I fly to Cebu where I already have a room booked at the Cebu Horizont Hotel and therefore a two-week stay on the island of Bohol where I will have, that’s incredible, the opportunity to study the tarsier in their habitat! Not bad, right?››.

‹‹Well it seems like something nice…››.

‹‹Trust me, it is! A unique opportunity for a researcher, needless to tell you that I can't wait to get there!›› she finished with a long sigh of satisfaction.

‹‹Are you a researcher?›› he asked her.

‹‹Of course! Why?››.

‹‹Nothing… I’m just saying››. In fact, from certain points of view, Francesca gave more the impression of being the classic high school science teacher, with an unpleasant attitude, already inclined to lead the life of a spinster.

‹‹Anyway, neither you nor I have chosen the best time to go there, the political climate is not the best››.

Marco sighed, turning his eyes to heaven; this is all that was missing to complicate a situation that was already unpleasant in itself.

‹‹I don't follow international politics much››.

‹‹The travel agency could tell you though››.

‹‹Yes, but it wasn't like that››.

‹‹They must have seen you so determined that…›› she smiled mockingly. Marco gave her a bored look.

‹‹Okay, okay, I won't say anything else, sorry››. Instead, only after a few minutes she closed the magazine.

‹‹You will surely think I am intrusive, but rest assured that it is not so! Would you me make me stand by the window?››.

‹‹Intrusive, you? Yes, but not now, when we make a stopover in Bangkok››.

‹‹That "yes", was it to imply that I'm intrusive or just that you'll let me stand by the window?››.

‹‹Let me guess, you're single, right?››.

‹‹What do you mean by that?››.

Marco smiled raising a hand trying to ignore her, at least that's what he thought, but she resumed immediately.

‹‹What do you have in that small hand luggage?››.

Marco sighed in exasperation ‹‹The camera››.

‹‹I take pictures too, you know? I'm curious, can I see it?››.

Marco showed her the old Nikkormat with two Vivitar zooms, making her nose wrinkle. Marco opened the bag and showed her the old Nikkormat, making her wrinkle her nose, she shook her head ‹‹The camera looks really old... are you sure it still takes pictures?››.

‹‹Very sure!›› hissed annoyed.

‹‹And that, why do you keep the razor with the camera?››

‹‹It's not a razor,›› he said, opening the little Minox 35, ‹‹it's a camera...››.

‹‹Uh how tiny!››.

‹‹Exactly, the size of a pack of cigarettes!››.

She shook her head and finally seemed to go back to dealing with the magazine and not his business ‹‹Have you already booked the hotel in Manila?›› she asked instead after just a minute.

‹‹No let alone, I didn't have time, I took the first available flight and just the last seat left››.

‹‹Well I don't think the last one, since I took it an hour ago››.

‹‹Excuse me and where is your organized trip?››.

‹‹Look, don't tell me anything… when I got to the airport I realized that the ticket was for Sibu and not for Cebu…››.

‹‹Is there a difference? It seems to me the same thing…››.

‹‹Of course, it's different! Sibu is in Malaysia, it's not just a matter of accents! At that point I said to myself that I wouldn’t miss such an opportunity, an inconvenience won’t stop me, and then everything is already booked, so I bought another ticket too bad because the other one was a first-class flight! Ah, but when I come back they will hear me! I'll get it refunded››.

‹‹Well best wishes then…›› Marco replied perplexed.

‹‹So, you'll find your girlfriend in…›› she insisted, ‹‹ sorry, ex, I meant…›› she specified with a sly smile.

‹‹I hope so››.

‹‹And if you don't find her and you have to move?››.

‹‹Listen, do we want to give the plane time to get to Manila or not, huh, what do you think?›› he retorted annoyed, puffing.

‹‹Okay, okay, but at least did you find out about domestic fly?››.

‹‹My doctor told me that I didn't need to get any particular vaccinations, and there is no malaria, the guide says so too!›› he said, raising the booklet, exasperated.

‹‹But no, listen how I pronounce it: "domestic fly", internal flights, not mosquitoes! Excuse me, do you always leave in the lurch?››.

‹‹It’s a wonder that I left... but last night I took the guide on the Philippines off the shelf''.

‹‹That's something, so you don't know where to stay yet? It's not a problem, any taxi driver can find you a room››.

Finally, after lunch Francesca fell asleep until the technical stop in Bangkok, although she hadn't stopped talking anyway, not even for a moment, continuing even while sleeping. After they left, she had moved to the window, and this every now and then seemed to keep her occupied beyond her talkative performances.

‹‹What’s her name?››.

‹‹Lulu? Her name is… well, Lulu, of course›.

‹‹And sorry, but I am curious how did you meet?››.

Marco fed up with that kind of Soviet police third degree looked at her without saying anything, but Francesca didn't give up.

‹‹Lulu, I said, where did you meet her?››.

‹‹Nothing special, she happened by chance one day to buy some books››.

‹‹Nothing special, do you have a picture? Can I see her?››.

Marco took out his passport and a couple of photos from his jacket and gave them to her. She raised her glasses to look at them better, she gave him a brief glance too, to immediately return to the photos.

‹‹Really beautiful, congratulations›› she returned them to him pausing to look again at Marco, carefully.

‹‹What’s up?›› he asked putting the photos back in the passport. He had seemed to read a note of irony in that look, and the very attitude towards him seemed to have retained the same sarcasm, as if she believed that Lulu was too much for someone like him.

‹‹Huh, nothing, nothing›› an imperceptible smile lit up on her face which only confirmed Marco's suspicions.

Like a swollen river she returned to flood him with news on the diet of monkeys whatever he didn't care about, on local customs, and on a thousand other news from who knows where. Surely, she was much more informed than him or the sparse guidebook on the Philippines he had brought with him.

Francesca at first glance didn't seem that great; she was not ugly, far from it, she was pretty in her own way. And then her eyes were striking, which a movement of the head or a cheeky gesture brought out from under that blonde bangs, provided she didn't stubbornly keep them half-hidden behind the big glasses she wore. Green eyes embellished with a single touch of mascara that only marked the outer corners. And a mouth that seemed to express perpetual surprise.

They arrived at Ninoy Aquino International Airport in the late morning, rather dazed by the time difference. They found themselves in a queue for passport control, Marco was in front and Francesca behind. A big official with a mustache turned the passport over in his hands, looking at the photo.

‹‹Are you here for tourism or business?››.

‹‹I… I'm here for a girl…››.

The official looked at him with a frown, Marco believed that fat bureaucrat had misunderstood his real intentions, thinking he had come looking for young girls or worse teenagers, and he began to get agitated.

‹‹No little girl, big girl, that is, wait no, I mean… old girl…›› he said miming various hypothetical heights with his hands.

The expression of the Filipino changed with every word from Marco. Francesca laughed at first, amused, then moved to pity by Marco's English or worried, she approached, emerging from behind him making a sign with her hand ‹‹Sir, sir, excuse me...››.

The official moved aside to get a better look at Francesca.

‹‹He means he has a girlfriend here in Manila and has come to marry her, you understand, right?››.

‹‹Hey, I didn't say I came to get married!›› he whispered irritably to Francesca.

‹‹Listen, please let me do it, we'll have a night here with your broken English!››.

In the end, with a dazzling smile, the Filipino stamped his passport and handed it to him seriously.

‹‹Old girl…›› he grinned, shaking his head, then took the passport that Francesca was handing him and without even looking at it, he stamped it, and added a nod towards Marco with a wink and laughed.

‹‹He should marry you, he really needs it…››.

She took her passport and walked away turning around a couple of times annoyed to look at the man who kept shaking his head grinning.

‹‹What did he say earlier?›› Marco inquired.

‹‹Forget it, nothing important›› She stopped a little further on, leaning on the trolley.

‹‹Of course, you speak terrible English››.

Marco put his hands in his pockets like a kid and smiled shrugging his shoulders ‹‹You're right, but the ITI professor spoke a very personal Anglo-Pisan, in any case thank you very much for your help››. Francesca laughed, thinking it was a joke.

‹‹Let alone, well at this point we part ways››.

‹‹Thanks again and good luck with… the little monkey››.

‹‹The tarsier! Thank you for your company and your patience››.

‹‹Good luck to you!›› she murmured to him, turning around a couple of times, waving at him ‹‹I'm running, for sure someone from the hotel will already be looking for me at the exit…››.

Chapter 2

Marco at the airport exit ran into Francesca again who was trying to call a taxi. She waved one hand, holding her trolley firmly with the other. She probably didn't feel at all at ease in the midst of that noisy crowd that hopefully offered their services.

As soon as Marco's face appeared towering over all those heads, she broke into a liberating smile, happy as a child to find him as unexpected as the presents under the Christmas tree.

‹‹Thank goodness, Marco! ›› she said with a sigh of relief.

‹‹I thought I'd find you together with some impeccable helpful local guide with the sign Miss Francesca Perugini…››.

‹‹I hoped so too but I guess that the reservation doesn't include that considering how things are going …››.

They stopped the first taxi that passed, the very helpful taxi driver saved them from all those poor devils, muttering something in Tagalog pointing to his compatriots there at the entrance, as if to excuse them. He turned around colliding with Francesca's smile and with Marco's zoom that framed to immortale him. The man pretended to shy away, showing off a fake operetta embarrassment.

‹‹Where are we going miss?››.

‹‹Pan Pacific Hotel, thank you!››.

‹‹Ok miss!›› the taxi driver confirmed with predictable enthusiasm.

Reflected in the rear-view mirror, Marco caught a lightning smile from the man, he thought he guessed from the expression of the Filipino that all his luck for the rest of the day depended on the destination of his passengers.

The chaos of traffic, the comings and goings of people, were not very different from other big cities. The expressions, the smiles and the calm of the people on the street changed. That was the real difference, it felt much calmer in the air. And the cheerfulness, there seemed to be more happiness and cheerfulness. Even from the taxi driver. ‹‹Music miss?›› he asked turning up the volume.

She gave a thumbs up, and she hummed the song on the radio.

‹‹Oh, miss you are a truly wonderful singer!›› the pimp marveled.

‹‹Oh thanks›› Francesca squeaked, melting worse than a tropical sorbet, happily continuing the singing performance to the destination.

‹‹Since you haven't booked, we could see if they have a room at the Pan Pacific› she said between warbles.

Marco said nothing, he smiled continuing to let her sing along with the exotic lackey. Instead he kept fantasizing about the moment he would see Lulu again, and all the possible expressions of surprise that would appear on her face. But the enthusiasm faded quickly. He had forgotten that Lulu hadn't been in touch for months. Considering that, he should have expected not to find her. A two of spades after all those kilometers would have been too much.

Needless to say, he wanted to pay Francesca to leave a generous donation to the local pimps' association.

‹‹I was actually thinking to choose something more modest, I don't know how long I'll have to stay here›› said Marco as soon as they took the ramp that led to the hotel entrance. The entrance to the hotel was protected by guards armed with shotguns, two were on the sides of the two access ramps and the others next to the door.

They crossed the entrance with that somewhat cheeky and snobbish attitude that Westerners often have on vacation; they stopped in the entrance near the reception waiting for the girl to finish with the couple of woody Englishmen in front of her. Francesca leaning on her trolley silently observed all the magnificence on display around her. Marco, on the other hand, abandoned his bag on the ground and settled into an armchair.

‹‹I'm sorry Miss Peruccini,›› the pretty girl at the reception repeated several times shaking her head ‹‹we have no reservation under this name››.

‹‹No, it's not possible, it can't be!››.

The girl seemed sincerely dismayed but not as much as Francesca.

‹‹Take a closer look, Francesca Perugini›› she murmured several times, bewildered, and she turned directly to Marco as if he were the only one able to understand her:

‹‹Do you realize that I received confirmation directly from here, right from the hotel?›› she said, flushed with anger, rummaging in her bag.

‹‹A fax, I received a fax directly from here, do you understand?›› she said slamming the paper violently on the reception counter. The girl's eyes widened in disbelief at the fax.

‹‹And I've already paid!›› growled Francesca staring the girl with a hard look, as if she were solely responsible for that unfortunate, absurd misunderstanding. She was angry, as it had rarely happened to her, while the poor girl was speechless.

After the predictable first seconds of amazement, the girl was already about to pick up the handset and call the manager, but her gaze became more attentive, she brought her eyes to the fax, squinting.

‹‹This is not the hotel number madam, and it's not even a Philippines number, you see here on the board, our country code is 0066, followed by 2, the Manila area code...››.

‹‹What kind of hotel›› she exclaimed, discouraged.

Marco was silent, trying to ignore it, but in the meantime, he was watching her, and he admired her grit and tenacity, even if judging by the expression on Francesca's face, it seemed that with the passing of the minutes an even more disconcerting reality was revealing itself inside her, which until then she hadn't even considered, or perhaps wanted to examine.

‹‹Oh, I am so angry, but how could this happen… she had assured me that she would have booked here and then also in… what the hell is the other city called! It must be because of some typhoon, yes, yes, they certainly thought I wouldn't come, don't you think?›› she seemed desperately trying to give herself a reasonable explanation of the unfortunate fact.

‹‹Well it could be›› Marco tried to reassure her half-heartedly.

Francesca went back to rummaging nervously in her bag in search of the note with the telephone numbers, looking a bit at Marco and a bit at the reception girl, so she asked to call.

‹‹What a shame, how can it be done… Hallo? Hi, my name is Francesca Perugini, I would like to talk… okay, I'm waiting›› she covered the microphone with her hand.

‹‹Do you have two rooms for tonight?›› she whispered to the very kind girl who indulged her in all the requests.

‹‹Of course, madam ›› she answered smiling.

‹‹How much…››.

‹‹200 dollars a night››.

‹‹200 dollars! Hallo… what does it mean who am I? Frances Perugini! Hallo? Hallo what the heck!›› she said throwing down the receiver angrily. She tried several times to no avail, then she searched the phone book for a couple of universities, and finally she got the worst news she could expect at that juncture.

‹‹What does it mean that he does not exist? Is there no John Johnson? But are you… okay thanks››.

‹‹Well, you’re lucky he didn't use John Smith ››.

‹‹Please stop it, huh! This is not the time for your cheap sarcasm›› she growled angrily.

She was furious, and rightly so, but the money paid for her two-week stay and everything else for days had already taken another flight. She then suddenly fell silent, dejected with morale at an all-time low judging how she was lively only half an hour earlier. Finally, tired, she sighed and sank into a chair there in the lobby.

‹‹What do I do now›› she murmured. She stared at her reflection on the mirror-polished marble floor which reflected the yellow-gold and red-gold columns that soared up to the ceiling, and all those little details that over time undermined her own intellect from the nervousness they caused: the smiling girl, poor joy could do nothing about it, but who by now could not stand her anymore, the smiling faces of the hotel guests who arrived to start their splendid holiday, and those who instead went out to surely enjoy a wonderful evening, not to mention all that unbridled luxury grinning in her face.

‹‹Oh! I'm too tired and too angry right now to think… I urgently need a shower, a good meal, a bed and possibly a soft one›› she said, ruffling her hair angrily. She didn't quite know what to do; being alone on the other side of the world just after finding out she'd been scammed was just too much.

‹‹I fully agree››.

Just at that moment she realized that Marco was still there, next to her, and strangely he hadn't abandoned her, contrary to her luck.

‹‹I'll calmly think about what to do later… Oh, right now I just can't!›› she chirped.