When the morning comes

45 | childly minds

"Dear Sole, when the morning comes, everything will be okay."

"When the morning comes.."

"When the morning comes.."

"Ragazzo.."

"When the morning comes.."

"Ragazzo.."

"When the morning comes.."

"Ragazzo!"

A stick pricking into my stomach. Wetness swiping over my cheek. Warmth, but extreme cold. "Svegliati! Ragazzo!"

I reached for my cheeks with my hands, causing pain to shoot up my whole body. I grunted, tried to roll onto my side, but the surface was not smooth. When my eyelids had finally opened, I saw a dog hovering over me, barking into my face, then licking it as enthusiastically as his tail was sweeping in the air.

A shoe poking my side. I looked up when the dog was pulled away. An elderly man was rattling something in Italian, a deep frown creasing his forehead, his hands moving up and down.

I tried to sit up, but my sore body wouldn't budge. I realised I was laid upon rocks near the lake, the man was probably taking his morning stroll with the dog. "I'm sorry. I don't understand."

The frown faded instantly. He remained silent for a moment, before, though faulty, English words left his chapped lips. "So early? You.. put on clothes."

I readjusted my underwear quickly, feeling how it had dried up, except for my behind. "Scusa."

"What is you.. here?" He held his dog back from licking me. And when I saw how the dog's eyes bulged out and slime dripped down his, too long, tongue that hung out of his mouth to the left, I was thankful for it.

"I don't know."

"Cappuccino?"

"I'm good, thank you."

"Where.. casa?"

I pointed at the lake house. But couldn't look at it.

"Car?"

"I'll be fine."

"Sì? Car?"

"No, no. I will.. swim." I gestured with my hands, hoping he'd get my note.

He rolled his eyes. "Idiota." He mumbled, before he turned around and left me alone. I watched him until he was out of sight.

With my eyes falling onto my sore body, I saw how some places on my skin had been torn open, bled, and dried up. I couldn't recall exactly how I'd gotten here. Thoughts had clouded my mind to the point where I just continued to swim until my muscles and body had started to hurt.

Tiredly, my mind pushed my eyes to look at our little, Italian home. The lights were still off. It was rather early. Had he gone to sleep? Was he still sleeping now?

I stared for an eternity. Recalling the restless dreams I'd had of Aurora. The day where we had cut her hair into a long bob. Many strands of hair weren't cut straight, but Aurora had loved the haircut. Had twirled around me, wrapped her arms around my neck and whispered to me.

"If you can be a perfectly fine hairdresser, you can do anything."

"What's that got to do with anything?"

"It won't always be going smoothly and straight on, there will always be bumps along the way, but as long as you keep on dancing, you'll be okay." She shook her hair into my face, with her childlike grin.

"You're something else." I had said, as I'd plucked the loose hairs off my sweater.

Swallowing away my tears, I blinked my eyes, my gaze falling back upon reality, instead of the memories. As my eyes turned to the sky, I saw how the biggest Artist had repainted the dark blue sky into a bright orange glow, with the clouds a pinkish shade, swipes of yellow smeared right through it.