De Luca

20.Wolfs and Sheep

20

I somehow got out of the maze and started running my eyes over the road infront of me. Hoping to find the cop who owned the building I was standing in.

Not a chance, brother. He vanished.

My inner voice could only demotivate me more when I was already hopeless and stranded in the middle of nowhere in Russia.

Without money.

With your father in your room.

Sitting in your bed.

The only thing that bothered me more than anything. The only room i got, my father took it.

You could just tell him to get out.

Maybe, he already went.

Go check.

For the sake of a place to sleep I did what my mind told. Finding my way up to the top floor.

The room number?

I raked my mind up for the wretched digits. Only to remember I never looked up to see the room number etched on to the cream coloured wooden door.

Oh, a cream coloured wooden door.

I ran my eyes across the front doors of all the rooms that lined the white walls and black tiles of the hallway. They were all a different shade of brown.

My steps started to fall from careful strides into something hurried and ugly. But I was too busy to consider the thoughts that people would have upon seeing a woman in a haste.

My heart skipped a beat when I saw the sight of the very door I was searching for. I yanked it open, expecting my father to be still in the bed and the sheets still being unclean.

But I was wrong. Everything was fresh as new. Not a single speck of dust on the furnitures and other decors. I was astonished by how quickly the work was done.

Everything blurred from my view as a single hand written note in the night stand stole my attention. It was neatly folded and placed under a vase filled with blood red roses that didn't quite catch my eye before.

Something so majestic would never miss my gaze.

Or maybe it was the sudden panic upon seeing my father that didn't let me take in the beauty that the room held.

Maybe the note is from your father?

Everything he touches is bound to wither. So was the roses fated to. But it still stood with its elegance. So, no,not my father. There's no trace of anything unnatural here. Unlike what will happen in my father's rise.

I shut the door right in his face.

He would've been red like a frantic tomato and would've started to throw things around.

Many things could point that the letter could be written by my father. But I chose to believe it would be by someone else. From the aura the little piece of paper emitted. It screamed the polar opposite of my father.

It must be from someone financially well stable.

I assumed as my fingertips brushed the soft and velvety finery. I gently took it out from under the vase and opened it.

What waited me was some words I never expected.

Mio fenice,

There is a great millions of people in this one world. Just like billions of stars in one galaxy. I'm thankful for my fated person.