original title: la palla

first edition: 23/12/2020

© Editrice Hencos

https://editrice.hencos.it

title: the ball

en-version 1.0 21/12/2021

translation by Emanuela Paganucci

published by © Tektime

https://www.traduzionelibri.it/

cover design: Erik Pethersen

This book is protected by copyright law.

Any unauthorized reproduction is prohibited

THE BOOK

After “the pyramid“, “the cone“ and “the sphere“, I entrust Hencos Publishers with my new novel, which is the result of sleepless nights, sluggish days and restless thoughts: a rough diamond, something to take a little at a time.

Erik Pethersen

THE AUTHOR AND HIS BOOK

Born and raised in the Lombardy region, he self-published some short novels, according to unknown and untraceable sources, which happened to be spread, as the author himself corroborates, through sheets of paper handwritten in block letters and printed, using unknown devices, about twenty copies each, which are all missing. After some hesitation, we publish what officially appears to be the first novel written by the author: an introspective journey, at times claustrophobic, through gloomy and bleak landscapes, suddenly broken up by amazing short-lived flashes of light.

Hencos Publisher

THE BALL

ERIK PETHERSEN

INDEX

1 A day in the life

1.1 Intro

1.2 Life

1.2 Life – One

1.2 Life - Two

1.2 Life - Three

1.2 Life - Four

1.2 Life - Five

1.3 Impulses

1.3 Impulses - One

1.3 Impulses - Two

1.3 Impulses - Three

1.3 Impulses - Four

2 A day in the life

2.1 Intro

2.2 Life

2.2 Life - One

2.2 Life - Two

2.2 Life - Three

2.2 Life - Four

2.2 Life - Five

2.3 Use your illusion

2.3 Use your illusion - One

2.3 Use your illusion - Two

2.3 Use your illusion - Three

2.3 Use your illusion - Four

3 Breaking into pieces

3.1 Naked and afraid

3.1 Naked and afraid - One

3.2 Jeg faller

3.2 Jeg faller - One

3.3 A fine day to exit

3.3 A fine day to exit - One

3.3 A fine day to exit - Two

3.4 In hiding

3.4 In hiding - One

3.4 In hiding - Two

3.4 In hiding - Three

3.4 In hiding - Four

3.5 Temporary peace

3.5 Temporary peace - One

3.5 Temporary peace - Two

3.6 Lost control

3.6 Lost control - One

3.6 Lost control - Two

3.6 Lost control - Three

4 Broken-down

4.1 Wishlist

4.1 Wishlist - One

4.1 Wishlist - Two

4.1 Wishlist - Three

4.2 Svartir sandar

4.2 Svartir sandar - One

4.2 Svartir sandar - Two

4.2 Svartir sandar - Three

4.3 Comfortably numb

4.3 Comfortably numb - One

4.3 Comfortably numb - Two

4.3 Comfortably numb - Three

5 Lights and shadows

5.1 Dumb hotel

5.1 Dumb hotel - One

5.1 Dumb hotel - Two

5.1 Dumb hotel - Three

5.1 Dumb hotel - Four

5.2 Hurt

5.2 Hurt - One

5.2 Hurt - Two

5.2 Hurt - Three

5.2 Hurt - Four

6 A brand-new life

6.1 A simple mistake

6.1 A simple mistake - One

6.1 A simple mistake - Two

6.1 A simple mistake - Three

6.1 A simple mistake - Four

6.1 A simple mistake - Five

6.2 The call of Ktulu

6.2 The call of Ktulu - One

6.2 The call of Ktulu - Two

6.2 The call of Ktulu - Three

6.2 The call of Ktulu - Four

6.2 The call of Ktulu - Five

6.3 Fragile dreams

6.3 Fragile dreams - One

6.3 Fragile dreams - Two

6.3 Fragile dreams - Three

7 Ipsa pila

7.1 Ipsa pila - One

7.2 Ipsa pila - Two

7.3 Ipsa pila - Three

7.4 Ipsa pila - Four

7.5 Outro

to whom it may concern

1 A DAY IN THE LIFE

1.1 INTRO

I have never seen anything so bright blue.

A pair of sensual and slender legs come out under a feminine torso and end up in two flat black leather boots.

A pale and velvety complexion shows from a V-neck, which restrain a playful vitality, and from her three-quarter sleeves on a pair of thin arms: probably some Fennoscandian genes.

I say «hi» casually.

She answers back showing a beautiful smile with teeth so white that lessen the blue brightness of her eyes.

This magnificent creature gets into the lift before me and stands on one side; I position myself at the bottom, as I do every morning.

The cosiness of this tiny space is suddenly filled with a delicate scent of bitter orange and cardamom. I lose myself in this aroma, while I ask her what floor she is going to. «Seventh floor, please» she says. I press the button, lingering among her sea like and icy colours.

I watch her bring her right hand as far as her shoulder: she twists a strand of her light brown hair around her index finger varnished in black; the other hand slips into one of the pockets of her dark jeans.

She has a delicate, gentle and regular face. She seems to shine with positive melancholy. Number seven lights up; the doors open.

«See you.»

«See you, have a good day.»

The lift goes up as far as the 11th floor.

No, I have never seen anything so bright blue.

1.2 LIFE
1.2 LIFE - ONE

A few more seconds in the lift and I reach my floor. I open the front door; the darkness of a February early morning envelops the office. Before me, a dim and foggy light shows behind the reception desk. A sequence of nine large windows, each measuring one metre and a half in width: beyond the windowpanes and the mist, in the distance, the castle towers over the city.

It is 7:30 am and nobody else is in the office, apart from the notary public, of course. His Ferrari California was already in the car park, like every morning, parked with the front of the car towards the exit, keeping the same distance from the two lines painted on the ground.

I took my jacket off and I hang it in the closet placed at the side of the desk. I get across the room looking at the castle in the distance from the windows on my right and I go for my self-stirring mug in my office. I go into the little room in front of my office and I wait for the kettle to boil. I pour some hot water onto my dissolvable Colombian coffee. I switch on my mug and I walk to the end of the corridor. The door of the notary’s office is open and he is busy reading something on his 29-inch computer screen.

«We need to take care of that issue I mentioned to you earlier on» he says looking up, after greeting me.

«What issue?» I asked, I am puzzled.

«That matter regarding that couple: that lady, or as you refer to as, well...»

«Alright, I get it: the slut.»

«That’s it, later we’ll get to it» the notary replied with a big smile. «Stop stirring that thing, please.»

«Sure, I am sorry» I say keeping a straight face while pressing the button on the stirring mug that I am holding in my hands, to increase the speed.

«Brando, tell me: the golden teaspoon that I gave you did not suggest anything to you? Did you think that that gift could have some sort of a secret meaning?»

«No, I did not think much of it: should I have? I thought it was just a present from our fat-bellied client from the valley».

I go away while I hear Alessandro grumble behind me and I unwillingly get back to the main room to drink my coffee, admiring the castle and the mist from the windows.

I wonder if she smiles at everyone this way: it won’t certainly be the first time she smiles and I won’t certainly be the first person she has turned to with such innocence. On the seventh floor there are a financial company and a language school: I would go for the first option.

I hear the door open behind me. I greet Domenica who is coming in, dragging a heavy bag. She strides to her office. Busy day with real estate deeds today, like every Tuesday. I glance at the big silver clock in the waiting room near the door: it is 7:51am. I don’t really feel like working. I take a glimpse at the city again: I can only see the blurred shape of some buildings. From here, it looks so quiet and it is hard to think that there are thousands of people there stuck in the morning traffic and busy trying to start their day.

I need to file several documents from last week. Later this morning then, there will be two extra tasks which are all set since yesterday. Luckily today there won’t be any legal counselling service, however after lunch there will surely be half the documents to be filed, which will take up a lot of my time. Also, all the real estate deeds which will be signed in the afternoon: Domenica will ask me without fail to do something like some missing energy certificate. Around 7:00 pm the documents to be filed will not be all done and that will mean that I have worked for eleven hours in a row, I will be tired and ready to dream of the lift to start my journey home. The slut comes back into my mind now. She was unconsciously being left out of the daily agenda through some mysterious brain function: I guess that the matter will be somehow included before the evening, following the notary’s request.

At around 6 pm already, I probably will start thinking about the lift going down and maybe stopping on the 7th floor. Maybe she finishes working at 7 pm too. She has made a big impression on me: a glow blended with a touch of melancholy which does not overshadow her light but it makes it brighter.

I leave the window and I go towards my burial recess. The purple light shows that the computer has been switched on and Windows is loading... the working day is about to begin. User ID and password: I am ready.

Registering corporate deeds is one the tasks I carry out in the office, among many others. It is quite a repetitive job but after all it is also soothing and relaxing because I don’t need to interact with other people directly and it doesn’t imply any online verbal conversation.

I open the list made by Tamara: last week several companies were registered, some statute regulations had been modified, there had been a merge and five share transfers. It comes to a total of fifteen files to submit to the Board of Trade and this amount doesn’t brighten up my negative thoughts from earlier on, making me take into account the possibility to finish my work before the evening, including all the breaks.

As I usually do, I start with the share transfers which are not too technical and they take me less than half an hour each.

The first one concerns a company owned by several people from the one family whose founder is now in his seventies and is trying to leave the business. I fill in the fields concerning the new capital stock, I grant the father a smaller share and the daughter a bigger one, I check their personal details and I consider the first file already done.

Check. Sign. Send. Amend. Sign. Check. Send. File registered: I will be sent the receipt shortly.

While waiting, I type Sbandofin Brescia in the search box and I press enter: the name is fascinating and I have always noticed it on the plates placed in front of the reception desk. Who we are, where we are, what we do, loans for your residential home, for your holiday home, debt consolidation, business funding, consumer credit, liquidity problems consulting. I stop midway through the page: the company does financial mediation for every need.

I stare at the screen. That girl, or woman, could persuade a penguin too from the Antarctic to purchase an air conditioner: she could manage to grant loans to people looking for cash to pay off other debts. Despite its name, I think that the company is a trustworthy mediator. Maybe she carries out a very boring job dealing with central credit register inquiries, looking for better spreads, filling in request forms to send to the banks. Considering that the first hypothesis is too fanciful and the second one is too sad, I just go for somewhere in between, which I can’t focus on precisely.

The receipt has arrived: I save the pdf file. I can go on with the next share transfer.

⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎

I hear a loud clacking down the corridor and I saw a head of fair hair coming through my office.

«Hi Bra, are you doing okay?» Tamara says.

She cheerfully glanced at me and she walks to the window, beyond my desk, holding a cup in her hands.

«Hi Tammi, all is great» I reply. She looks through the glass panes and sips her coffee, with her back to me. Her wild hair fall down on a purple jumper. She has a pair of very tight black leather trousers and she wears a pair of quite high stilettos.

«According to you, why is my car remote control not working anymore?»

«What do you mean, Tammi?» I asked, turning to her. «The battery could be low!?» I tried to imply.

«You sound like my husband: I am not stupid, you know! I have already tried to change it but it’s still not working.»

«Well, I guess there is something else wrong with that.»

«Great. What would I do without you, Bra» she replied sarcastically. She turns around, she leans her back against the windowpane and grumbled. «I think I’ll go to the car dealer» she added then.

«Good idea» I stated.

«Bra, do you think that these trousers are too flashy?» she asked all of a sudden stroking her leg with the palm of her left hand.

«Well, they don’t go unnoticed, I think.» Like the jumper, the shoes, the bleached blond hair, virtually transparent.

«So, you too think that they are too flashy?»

«What do you mean by you too? Did anyone by any chance stopped you on the street to tell you?» I was being sarcastic.

«No, no-one. Anyway, I just walked through the underground car park» she answered with a smile. «My husband said that they make me look a bit tarty.»

«Really? Maybe just a little, but not that much. Well, it depends...»

«So, you feel the same too» Tamara interrupts me. «I think that you men have a problem with leather.»

«I don’t have any problem with leather. Those trousers are nice, they suit you. They look a bit... now, I mean, they look refined... like an upper-class escort girl...»

«Well Bra, that’s enough» she interrupts me. «I go back to work, thank you for all the compliments.»

«But I said that I think they are nice, Tammi.»

«Yes, I got it.» She gets to the door, she turns around and says: «Have a nice day».

«You too» I reply. I hear her heels clacking on the ground and going off.

I look back at the screen. I smile.

I complete my file: check; send; filed.

Now it is the two nice buddies’ turn: they are friends and they are the notary’s friends. They seem to have come out of Wheelers Dealers. They have been business partners since kindergarten, they own a small business buying and selling second-hand cars; they fix them and sell them; beside that, they also fix cars and do the tuning.

The partner who is an expert in fixing cars, Ermes, has always had 40% of Anyauto Ltd. And now he bought 10% off his partner, Antonio. Now they eventually own 50% each, this makes sense after quite a few nonsensical changes within the partnership.

On Wednesday, while taking care of the deed, Ermes asked for information regarding the notary’s old Porsche. His request was so detailed that well supported my convictions regarding the disappearance of 911 in 2005. Alessandro, when asked about the new arrival, he replied hastily but that was enough to confirm the actual existence of his beloved car which was replaced about two years ago by the Ferrari he has now.

Tax codes, shares, sum of the shares. Send. Amend. Check. Send. Filed. Still two share transfers to go and I’ll be finished; it is 10:55 am and at 11:30 am I am meeting up with the notary to take care of the merge. A quick visit to coffee room, I said «get the hell out of here» to the bleached head of hair with black high heels underneath, standing in the middle of the corridor and I am ready to go ahead with the work I have to do. I do two easy transfers quickly due to the unstoppable enthusiasm with which my hands fly around the keyboard moving the mouse pointer all over the screen. I just got some time to go over the consumer credit draft by Sbandofin to whom I could turn to borrow rates ranging from 7%, with a GAPR amounting to 8,6%, payable also in case of liquidity needs without asking for any warranty.

I stare at the page and I consider such conditions misleading rather than interesting.

Red light, the notary is calling: «Tamara said that the merging companies have arrived: can you go and get them in the hall and bring them in the deed room, please?»

«Sure, I’ll pick them up and we’ll be right over.»

1.2 LIFE - TWO

The two managers are there for the merger. First thing, there is a recap of all the projects followed by all the assets to be merged. The whole matter has been agreed upon months before so everyone looks really bored, including Alessandro the notary who is thoroughly reading all the bulky minutes and seems to be the only one still alert.

Three thousand euros in five years at that rate means repaying almost one and a half times the capital at maturity. Although I am quite prone to silly behaviours, I come to the conclusion that this idea would be useless and unnatural: there could be better ways to get in touch with the blue creature. More than a simple hello the next time I bump into her would be too straightforward for the way my brain works. What if the glow was just a simple and sudden glow? It would be useless to put energy into a blue flash ready to go off within a minute of conversation; even though I doubt that this may happen: such a deep blue colour cannot dissolve so quickly; this would be totally in contrast with the intensity of her gaze.

«Land Registry extracts were done together with the merger approval; nothing has changed since then, right, Brando? Can you pass them to me so that we can quickly go over them and check them?»

«There hasn’t been any change, here they are» I reply, pushing the papers in front of me towards the notary.

Better to leave her in the world of dreams, dreams that are almost real, glowing dreams that are almost real.

«Next week we will register the deed and I will give you the updated extract» I say.

«Thank you, have a good day.»

«I’ll show you the door» I answer.

⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎

When I get back to my desk, I find the notary there waiting for me in front of my desk, fiddling with an elastic band in his hands.

«You look already burned out today Brando: you look as lively as a warthog infected with Ebola virus» he says ironically while I am staring at him a little puzzled.

«Let’s go to the coffee room: our clients who want to set up a company will be here shortly, shall we get a coffee in the meantime? You can stir yours, if you wish.»

«I won’t have it stirred, just to show you my support.» After a few minutes, we are in the deed room again, sitting on the same chairs we sat on earlier on, with two coffee cups in our hands.

«Now, Brando, all that positive energy that is coming out from you, where does it come from?»

«I believe it is just an inner feeling. It is not on sale, I think.»

«Just as well, otherwise suicide attempts could unreasonably increase.»

«I don’t think I am contagious, anyway.»

«No, I don’t think so. What comes out of you is harsh if anything but what worries me is what you have inside.»

«Really? Why are you saying this? I don’t look too weird or depressed today... I mean I don’t look any different than other days.»

«That’s it, Brando. You are depressed and weird like many other days. However, lately, you are almost over the limit. I have known you for years now, I have never seen you like this.»

«You think so? I don’t know, I haven’t thought about my psychological and physical condition today, actually. I got here and I got down to work with the files. I think I did even take a breath, from time to time.» Maybe the thought of the blue glow took my mind off what I was doing for a few minutes, her apparition may have shaken a regular day at its onset, but I think I am alright.

«I am not too sure, Brando. You look to me more and more... I don’t know how to put it...»

«Loony?» I ask.

«No. I’d rather say gloomy. As if you are trapped inside something. Trapped in there.»

«Trapped inside what?»

«Trapped inside, that’s all.»

«What do you mean, trapped inside myself?»

«Yes, that’s it.»

«Excuse me, notary, I have felt just fine up until two minutes ago: the day was passing just fine, like many others. Now, thinking that I am trapped within myself could make me feel distressed, it is a disturbing picture.»

«Maybe I am the only one to detect this lately: don’t read too much into my words. It depends on the places we are trapped in: they don’t have to be always bad places. If you have coconut trees and sun all day inside yourself, it could be all good» he replied with a smile.

«Sure. Haven’t you just said that I am gloomy inside? Actually dark?» I ask a little puzzled.

«Yes: mine was just a theory in fact» he answers. «Contra spem.»

«So funny» I say it with a grin.

«Let’s put aside this introspective journey inside yourself» the notary goes on, «what makes you feel this way?»

«What do you mean? I am the same as any other day.»

«Has anything unusual happened to you recently? Is your matt car okay? Your parents? Is everything okay? Do you still live on your own refusing every human contact?»

«When are our next clients coming?» I ask with a sarcastic tone, to try and change subject.

«In a few minutes, I reckon. However, we have plenty of time to make a brief examination of your current life.»

«Good, how nice. Why though?»

«For no particular reason. I worry about you, about your psychophysical condition. More about the former than the latter.»

«Excellent. I am happy that you worry about my mental health. It pleases me very much.»

«So then?» he insists.

I am looking at the empty cup that I hold in my hands.

«Now I can tell you that my matt car is doing well and I guess my parents too, I mean, they are doing only too well. I add that I do not live on my own, I have occasional and normal contact with the other dwellers on planet Earth, and you are one of them.»

«Thank God, Brando, you have stopped hanging around with the aliens, this is a positive thing. Did you start hanging around regularly with somebody else, I mean, with the opposite sex?»

«No, I didn’t. I stopped with the aliens, just give me some time to change my habits, meet new people to hang around with. Maybe zombies, there are so many around.»

«Very funny. Let’s take a note: nothing new, the candidate does not point out any recent changes in his lifestyle. I am sure that if you behave like this, the sentence to home confinement will be revoked, sooner or later.»

«Home confinement that I was granted being trapped inside myself?» I wonder, puzzled.

«Right that one.»

«I was asking because I was afraid I had got lost.»

«So, are you dead on not trying to repent?»

«I don’t think I need to repent for anything. That’s the way I am: I do not hang around with aliens, zombies nor human beings; I am gloomy and a bit down but I have always been like that. Maybe lately the whole situation has gone a bit worse, maybe I find it difficult now to put up with some situations that I used to somehow manage before.»

«Attention, please. We have here some sort of explanatory sentence which expresses a whole thought» the notary says sarcastically. «Are you talking about work in general or something more complicated?»

«It is the whole situation, what is around us: people, in particular. It is the attitude that people have towards each other. Not just in the working environment: it is something that makes me sick, it makes me feel bad.»

«People. People make you sick: disturbing. What do you mean, Brando?»

«There is some sort of pathological apathy everywhere. They all just want things and expect them without doing anything useful for themselves or for the others.»

«That has been my feeling too for quite some time.»

«Do you know the history of do ut des?» I ask.

«Sure, do ut des and do ut facias, are the foundation of private law. You are talking about a wider picture, don’t you?»

«Yes, a wider and more trivial scenario. Men have always acted this way: you give something to get something else back. I think this is fair, quite normal. The problem is that now it is only a des: give me this because I am entitled to it, I want this because I am more worthy than you. The synallagma has changed: everybody expects something but nobody does anything.»

«Interesting analysis. Is that what makes you gloomy?»

«I don’t know. This is for sure something that I can’t stand. And there is so much more to it.»

«Talking about do ut des, did those guys from Newco Dating Ltd avail of the legal counselling service, didn’t they?»

«They did, they dropped in on a Wednesday, two weeks ago. They are two guys from Eastern Europe who want to start a dating business on the internet. Actually, I am not too sure if they are real rendezvous, which are organized on the web or virtual dating, like online chats or something like that. Anyway, they were telling me that their web site is ready for the users and they are trying to create a mobile app too.»

«Right, that was exactly the idea behind setting up legal counselling service» Alessandro says. «Giving everybody the chance, especially needy people, to have free legal service for every need.»

«Wonderful idea which compels me to get in contact with many needy people for three hours a week...»

«Correct. This would be only do, without ut des: something done for a noble principle. You are really great at dealing with needy people, Brando». The notary stops and looks at me smiling. «So today we will help needy people to run the usual virtual brothel: it is nothing new, it must be the third one already. This year only.»

«I think that word of mouth is what gets them going in this environment, but massage parlours have almost disappeared» I say.

«True, I haven’t seen them in a while: it is probably because the Town Council close them all down» the notary replies. «Anyway, wasn’t the deed scheduled for 12:30 pm? It is 12:45 pm already and they haven’t shown up yet.»

«They may run a little late, I fear.»

«We should look into this legal counselling service...»

«Maybe so. Often helping people in need is not taken in the right way by people, or several people consider themselves in need but they are just in need to have something for free» I say.

«Come on, let’s get back to the do ut des...»

«Mala tempora currunt, Brando.»

«Sed peiora parantur» I reply.

1.2 LIFE - THREE

«Good morning, sirs. Now, we are here to register Newco Dating Ltd» the notary starts.

«Here we are» they reply almost at the same time.

«Did you check if there are other websites registered with similar names at the Board of Trade, Brando?»

«The gentlemen here actually wanted to name their company Newco Ltd. I took the liberty to point out that this name was not so original and that it would be necessary and useful to attach another word to it. So then Newco Dating came out, it sounds a bit more original.»

«Excellent, and Newco Dates it is then» the notary adds, and then he says: «Each of you will own a share amounting to 50% of the share capital. Are you both residing in Brescia, right?»

One of the two men says: «Yes, we have been living here for twenty years now».

«And the company will be based in the municipality of Bre...» the notary says this and he stops suddenly. «In the municipality of Codogno» he continues saying, with a slightly surprised tone, looking at me. «Which is in the province of Cremo...»

I look at him and I shake my head.

«Which, surely, is in the province of Piace...» he goes on saying, lowering his voice, while I shake my head again.

«Lodi» one of the two partners says. The notary looks at him.

«Of course: Lodi. It is an important town, isn’t it? It is a busy city, right?» he asks while staring at the guy in front of him.

«That’s right, it is a busy town» says one of the partners. «We decided to have it as our headquarters because our computer technician and the server are going to be based in Codogno.»

«I see» the notary says. «Are you aware that if you ever decide to shift the headquarters outside the Municipality, you are going to need another notarial deed, aren’t you? Why not choosing Brescia as the headquarters, considering that both of you are residing in here?»

«Yes, yes, your colleague told us» says the plump partner with Magnum P.I. style moustache «It’s better this way for us for... how can I put it... confidential reasons.»

«I see, I see» the notary cuts him short. «And Codogno it is» he says looking at the desk. He browses through the Statute then and he briefly points out some aspects to the partners, who do not seem to pay too much attention.

«25% of the share capital amounting to €10,000 has to be paid over by the partners to the administrative body. So, we are talking about € 1,250 each» the notary says.

«Yes» Magnum P.I states, «here, all in €50 banknotes.»

«Great» Alessandro says. «You are both administrators, so you need to pay € 2,500 into each other’s hands. As for levies, taxes and registration fees, please finalize it at the front office desk.»

«Go to the entrance door where you can see something artificially fair» I say.

«Pardon?» the plump version of Tom Sellek says, looking confused.

«I meant that to make the payment you can go over to the girl sitting at the desk at the entrance.»

«Right, okay, thank you. Goodbye» he answers a bit puzzled.

The two of them walk off the room and down along the corridor.

The notary turns to me, he looks at me and says: «Did you know Codogno, did you?»

«No, never heard of it, I’ve got a better idea looking at Google Maps. Excuse me for not telling you in advance: I forgot. However, I thought I was ignorant not to know it, considering how casually the two of them were telling me about it.»

«Don’t worry, Brando. I will check later on where this joyous town is located». «I’m off: my wife is waiting for me for lunch at the Bistrot. Yourself? Will you have your usual sad-looking bowl of tofu with cereals?» he says sarcastically.

«Yes, something like that. See you later.»

⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎

I am supposed to be gloomy and sombre more than usual, in his opinion, I ponder as I sit back at my desk. I don’t think so. I may be pensive, probably it is the fault of the blue glow. Sure: now I am blaming somebody I don’t even know.

Sbandofin Facebook: search. No, they are not on Facebook. Sbandofin Linkedin: search. Nothing.

Sbandofin, search for pictures: just our building taken from below, which is the only picture on their website. Nothing much: there doesn’t seem to be much on the internet apart from their website.

My smartphone vibrates and lights up: Mutter. I scroll down with my finger on the display and I answer.

«Hi Bra, how are you?»

«Hi mum, wonderfully. Yourselves there, is everything okay? What are you doing today?»

«All is well here. Nothing major: I am making the pizza dough for tonight’s celebrations, your father has gone to the canal. He went out at 7:30 this morning and I haven’t seen him since.»

«You mean, nothing major for your standards but, just out of curiosity, what celebrations are on tonight?»

«Here in Alberbhüttel it’s the Patron Saint’s Day. Last year we went there and found out that everyone cooks something and brings it to the square to share with the fellow villagers. We didn’t know and went down bare-handed. Between one tankard and another, at the end of the evening, they got us to promise to make pizza for everybody for the following year.»

«That explains it all» I add. «I didn’t know anything about this lovely German celebration; it reminds me of San Faustino’s Day, with the difference that here we don’t share homemade food and knock it down less beer»

«Yes, Brando, it is similar to San Faustino’s celebration. Here on the Kiel canal each town has its own annual festival and everyone puts in a lot of energy preparing their own festival. They are spread out through the months and the inhabitants of the neighbouring towns, come to other people’s celebrations, so the town square is overflooded with people coming from three or four towns. Beer flows in large quantities for sure.»

«Some sort of an alcoholic exchange» I interrupt.

«Just think that our neighbours, those who live in the other town at ten km from here, Beringfeld, have designed some sort of a beer distribution system to go with the pizza. Something done properly: they dug five metres deep and they run the pipes under the cobblestone. Every three metres they placed some kind of a yellow hydrant, which is a real tap as an actual fact.»

«These Teutonic traditions don’t seem bad at all: I didn’t know that. Anyway, after one year, do these people still remember this, which was furthermore agreed upon after gulping down a few litres of beer?»

«I told you: they care about that a lot. I have been asked more or less the same question for the last year or so by everybody I was bumping into. “Are you making pizza with pepperoni and frankfurters, right?“»

«I see. So, the hype is virtually sky-high. Anyway, how many pizzas do you have to make? Isn’t dad helping you?»

«Of course, he is!» she said. «Well, we are going to make some. We talked about that last night, to recap all the ingredients: we decided to make thirty-six.»

«It sounds like a fair amount, bearing in mind that everybody else will bring something, I would say that thirty-six pizzas are enough» I reply. «It is hard work, though.»

«I meant thirty-six metres, Brando.»

«Woh» I reply a bit confused. «Is pizza measured by the metre in northern Germany?»

«Yes, it seems to be. Even if you go to a pizzeria, the waiters consider it as a unit of measurement: if you ask for two capricciosa pizzas, they will bring you two metres of it, you don’t need to say anything else. So last night dad organized some bonfires in the garden. He marked six areas measuring 1m high and 7m length and put some big rocks he got at the canal all along their perimeters. At each corner, he drove a steel pole with a hole on top into the ground; then he got Birger to make some trays which are 6m long and 60cm wide. The trays have two steel bars at the far end which are slotted in the poles.»

«Yes, mum, I am starting to get a better picture of the situation and I do realize that nothing much is happening there, today too. Sorry but how long are the poles? What are you going to put then on the six areas?» I ask staring at the wall beyond the screen. Then all of a sudden I felt enlightened. «Yes, of course! Six areas measuring six metres each equal to thirty-six metres of pizza: got it!»

«Yes Brando, it is like military operations: everything is organized down to a tee. The poles are fifty centimetre high and the ovens will be overflowing with charcoal.»

«Charcoal pizza. I see...» I can’t conceal my bewilderment. «You are going to need loads.»

«Not too much, actually: we went to get it yesterday. We got one hundred ten-kilo bags.»

«I guess all the ingredients have already been bought...»

«Yesterday we bought flour, yeast and buffalo mozzarella cheese. Dad and Birger are going to buy Pepperoni, frankfurters and chili peppers on their way back.»

«Right. Who is this guy, Birger?»

«He is our new neighbour, didn’t I tell you about him? He bought the farmhouse just before ours: the one that had been up for sale for quite some time, at the entrance to the dirt road which leads to grandad’s farmhouse.»

«I don’t recall you telling me» I answer deep in my thoughts. «Anyway, this Birger guy too has decided to withdraw from the world and isolate himself in that piece of German country land?»

«We are not that isolated, Bra. Birger is working as a blacksmith and he does some lovely creations, like the trays for pizzas. I even brought him the iron maiden that I found in the lodge: he said he will get something beautiful out of it. Your father and I did not isolate ourselves from the world: we just need to get grandad’s house all set so that we can sell it.»

«Sure, I know very well that you are not completely isolated, but the only thing is that grandad is dead two and a half years now. I am starting to think that you want to live there.»

«That’s right. Bra, the house is hard to manage» my mum says softly.

«Sorry… did you say the iron maiden?» I reply puzzled, thinking back about my mum’s words.

«That’s right, grandad Bastian had loads of weird things down in the shed, did I not tell you?»

«Yes, you did mention something about that but I did not realize that he had torture devices.

«Who knows what went on in here... Uh, your daddy and Birger are back: they have just driven into the driveway. The pickup truck is loaded with ingredients: I must go and help them» she said a bit agitated.

«Right, I’ll leave you to do your nothing much» I reply quickly. «Sorry for one sec mum, one last question.»

«Tell me quickly Bra, I have to go!»

«How do you take the thirty-six metres of pizza to the town?»

«About fifty people come by tonight at 7.00 and we all walk to the town with the trays on our heads and torches in our hands in a real torchlight procession.»

«Sure, it will get cold! It must be four kilometres to the square and the trays must be hot.»

«Come on, Bra I have to go, all these silly questions: we bought a hundred pairs of gloves to hold the pizzas. Also, each table in the square has a power outlet for the burner: this way anyone can heat up the dishes they brought from home.»

«I am really silly, you are right. Enjoy the evening and say hi to dad for me.»

«Yes, sure, I’ll tell him that you were asking for him. I’m off. Bye» my mum mumbled. «Brando, I nearly forgot: I spoke to Marlon and he told me to tell you to contact him because he can never get you.»

«Yes, sure, I’ll do that. See you, mum.»

«See you, Bra, love you.»

Tofu, tofu, tofu; Tofu and seitan; and chicken; and rice: a spoonful and I start eating, while I am thinking about fifty people walking in the middle of the countryside with carrying pizzas on their heads, holding a torch in their hands; actually, thirty-six metres of pizzas on their heads and those who are not holding a torch, are holding a one-litre tankard of beer in their hands. I am thinking about how energetic my two parents are and I state that my level of energy, considering that I am a good bit younger than them, has nothing to do with their levels. Lately my level of energy seems nearly asleep, even though it has reached a level of respectable normality not too long ago.

Taking part in this kind of German festival, could be a healthy and liberating experience which would make my parents happy that I could take up their invitation to go there at least for a weekend and stay in the extension in their property in Germany. Huge property that my mum inherited from my grandad Bastian virtually three years ago. Last summer I was there for a few days but after that, I could not accept their regular invitation because I always had something urgent to take care of.

I feel a little confused thinking about the things that I need to take care of and I am mulling over the mental and physical benefits that I could get from being off work for a week. I would also have the chance to carry out a further investigation about all the weird things that my parents keep on telling me, like metre-long pizzas and torture devices. Surely Bastian must have been weird: he gave life to my mother, with the joint participation of my grandma, and then he went back to Germany, God knows why, probably to torture people in the basement.

I start to imagine 1.300 kilometres of German motorway, free from annoying speed limits for long stretches of the road. With a few stops, I would get there approximately slightly over twelve hours. One day’s journey and five or six days off staying in the extension, located on that huge far-away piece of German land; travelling by car with a blue glow sitting beside me, able to shake me off from that deadness that Alessandro feels it is coming from me. Unattainable idea, I state right away, wiping out the motorway and the German countryside and bring my organs of vision back on the screen in front of me: it is quite possible that the blue glow is already going out steadily with somebody else from the opposite sex and may also have a few children.

I push away the bowl with the airtight lid with my lunch in it, moving it towards the screen, I stand up and I go to the windows, holding my smartphone in my hands and looking at the landscape, which is now too bright.

I stare at the hills in the distance and I think about my brother, who is missing, according to the latest news, in some weird African State, with his association of volunteers. Considering that he is convinced that 4G is not among the most spread-out illness in the places he goes to and despite I unsuccessfully tried on many occasions to get him over the phone or on VoIP, I always notice his funny habit to blame me for his faults, whether unintentional or malicious. I hit the little green button and I write: “How are you doing? Are you in a civilized place? Have you been infected by 4G yet? I would be grateful if you could not spread fake information about my availability to our parent! Bye“

1.2 LIFE - FOUR

«Excuse me Brando, are you still on your lunch break?» I hear Domenica say behind me.

«I’d say that I am enjoying the last minutes of my break. Have you trouble with the real estate deeds?»

«Well, not exactly trouble. Yesterday I mentioned to you about the deed of sale that is on this afternoon, you know those rental office units that keep going around.»

«Sure, the usual.»

«Correct, that one. I thought that the land registry extracts and maps were still valid from the last deed. I realized that fifteen months have gone by so it would be better to do them all over again.»

«Fifteen months under the ownership of the same individual? I reckon it is some sort of record. Shall we celebrate?» I ask playfully.

«Yes, I think it is possession primacy» Domenica replies while placing a coffee pod in the coffee machine, after putting a cup under the nozzle.

«So do you need land registry extracts of the whole property?»

«That’s right, we ought to check that the situation is the same as it was in the last deed. I am quite sure that nothing has changed, however it is better to check.»

«Alright, I’ll get an extract of the whole thing then. I strongly fear something: what is the name of the new company that owns it?» I ask.

Domenica grabs the coffee cup, she looks at me sorrowfully while sipping her coffee and she confirms my doubts: «The rental office units goes back to Ciapper Ltd».

«Right, I would have never said that! These businessmen are so enlightened that you can predict their moves months in advance» I say harshly. «Anyway, just give me five minutes and I’ll start my surveying: everything will be ready by 3 o’clock.»

«Thank you, Brando, the deed is on at 4:00, so it is great.»

I go off with my cup and get back to my desk. I just listen to the news for a couple of minutes, before getting the extracts done: spread exceeds share 200; the stock exchange is down by 2.2%. The usual, I say, opening another website on Chrome.

Alberbhüttel patronal festival, search. Images of a square with many tables and several people come up. The last photo shows a man with a long grey moustache and red cheeks, busy lifting a large tankard of beer, almost empty.

She surely has a name, I am talking to myself while opening another page. I look for Sbandofin on Linkedin. Melissa. No. No. It’s not her. What kind of name is Melissa? Nice though. Elisabetta. Not even that one. The blue glow does not have such dreadful name. I decide to put a stop to my silly search and go back to work.

I open the Ciapper ltd folder, I click on Banano commercial rental estate subfolder and I read the titles of five deeds: the first document goes back to 2012 and the last one goes back to February 7th, 2017. Right, I say: the current one. I open the folder for the first document and I scroll down the documents related to the land registration extracts and the cadastral maps.

It is called Banano because of its shape, at least that’s what the Ciapper brothers claim. On the property website, in block letters, a call-to-action: luxurious offices in the heart of the city: book your viewing. Down on the right- hand corner, I notice a writing in small letters which I don’t recall having seen before: for rent and for sale. Considering that renting had always been considered by the brothers as the only way to make some money out of the property, I take it that this change of strategy is due to the difficulty in selling the properties.

The building is quite nice: it is modern and it is made up with both metal and glass materials, it is not really located in the city centre as the website implies but it is at the entrance to the bypass road, in a place that an experienced estate agent would describe it as close to all the amenities. Twenty sparkling storeys shine on the display in front of my eyes. I stare at the picture that shows the front of the building and I wonder, as I do every time I look at a building, whether in person or virtually, about the opportunities given by the chosen name. I stare at the rendering snapshot, I open another Chrome page, I search for the picture of a banana tree and compare it to the picture of the building: I would have gone for a name like Sitting Beam or for something more appropriate like The big L.

Ciapper ltd built this property between 2008 and 2011; at the beginning of 2012, it was ready to be placed on the market. Later on, with the first deed, it was immediately sold as a whole to a different legal entity, namely the property management company owned by the holding company of the group of which Ciapper ltd, a simple construction company, was also part. The idea, as I understood at the time, was to have the property managed by Ciapper Real Estate, which would have leased the offices to third parties. Only the top floor was intended to house the offices of the parent company and other related companies, including Ciapper Real Estate ltd and also Ciapper ltd.

At the time, the story had intrigued me and for a certain and prolonged period I had taken the occasional habit of going to patrol the building, to check the progress made in the office leasing. In the evening, the lights on would be a good indication of active leasing. Days and then months went by, but the only light was coming from the big LED display placed vertically between the two floors of the building: Luxurious offices. Book your viewing. Nor have I ever seen any sign of life forms living on the top floor of the vertical building.

The building was mentioned again at the office sometime later. In order to implement the new strategy to reduce the expenses, the brothers decided to get rid of several companies which were part of Ciapper. So, the holding had been merged with the property management company. After only a few months, Banano rental estate had subsequently been turned into what the brothers had described as a luxurious residence on Lake Garda, but the notary deed seemed to conceal some unwritten agreement. As a matter of fact, in a short time, the property had gone back to its original owners: Banano rental estate had gone back again to Ciapper and the further transfer had effectively got my interest in the matter to fade away.

I go back to 2017 subfolder and I read Domenica’s notes: Ciapper Real Estate ltd settles to sell the whole estate to Ciapper ltd. I open the Chamber of Commerce reports, first the one related to one company, then the one related to the other company, which I find out they had already been saved up by Domenica and they had been done two days before: the two brothers appear as the only shareholders. I go back to my notes and I figure out that the price amounts at ten million and is paid by sixteen bank drafts. Pdf files are saved up in the same place and have been created half an hour ago: € 625.000 each, issued by six different banks. I close all the open documents and I postulate that the whole thing can look very much like the last dramatic transfer of Banano estate that went from a vegetative state to decay.

I realise that I have attached too much attention to this issue, prompted by the curiosity caused by this ill-famed property, and I get the land registry extracts from the familiar site. I compare the pdf file from fifteen months ago with the new one and I notice, scrolling down the pages, that the two documents are identical: always 42 offices, registered as category A/10 and to this day 126 parking spaces, identified as C/6 and C/7.

I click on the email icon and I press the enter button to send a new email. I select Domenica from the list of contacts and I write in the field subject: Land registry reports and in the field body: Everything unchanged. Attachments. Good luck with that.

1.2 LIFE - FIVE

At 2:40 pm there are still all the company settings up and statutory amendments to be registered, for a total of ten documents. In four hours, I should be able to complete my work, just keeping my eyes on the screen constantly, I think.

As for the company settings up, I just need to register the transfer of ownership and input all the company data, the company directors’, the statutory powers: everything. It is a hard task, not a bit creative. The modifications are quite simple: I just have to register the updated statute and input a small amount of data, let aside unfortunate circumstances that could get the company contract to be not just amended but completely altered.

I start with the settings up, I set a core of my brain on auto. I open the pdf file of the first document and I start inputting data in the document in every field of the form: name, registered office, activity and all further necessary information, according to the legal status implemented.

I have been working here at Alessandro’s firm for fourteen years now, however it is a temporary situation, as I often repeat to myself: I must do something in life, I can’t be idle, waiting to find my path. As a matter of fact, as soon as I finished university, my only goal was to start working right away.

Considering the historical period, I had completed my university studies, my father advised me against taking up something similar to what he was doing, building and selling properties, nor had he suggested to work with him. An opportunity that, when you think about it, I did not even take into consideration.

In the 80’s luxury properties located in winter tourist resorts in the north of Italy allowed him to achieve a considerable entrepreneurial success. So much so that our lifestyle was comfortable enough to raise two children, to own a house in the city and two winter and summer holiday homes around the province. My memories of that period, although blurred, are those of a wealthy family background: my mother looked after us kids and our father was often missing, or rather he was around construction sites. Around the mid 90’s, as I grew older, I remember that there was talk about winter tourist market saturation in mountain areas so that my father had to get some work around Lake Garda, in search of new buyers, people who loved the place so much during the summer break that they would consider buying a steady home on the lake shore: luxury homes or homes which would attract wealthy people only. Several German tourists, but also tourists coming from eastern Europe, especially from Russia, beside some Italians with huge assets to invest, no-one knew where that wealth was coming from. So, our standard of living became more than comfortable: my father was getting busier with signing deeds of sale and being less around construction sites; in the meantime, I was growing up, I completed my higher education and I enrolled on a Business Economics and Legislation course at university.

Since my teenage years, I have been always interested in the manufacturing world: to make something tangible, maybe to manufacture a mass-produced item, a real object replicable in a large number of specimen. Once I completed university I did not exactly how to start off a business. I went for a temporary job, connected to the sector I wanted to get into. A job in an established notary office could give me a good chance to keep a close eye on the business world from inside and learn to understand it, a good ground to make ideas germinate.

So here I am, lost in an endless sequence of stories concerning companies, settings up, mergers, liquidation settlements. Ideas for businesses, examples not to follow, models to draw inspiration from. Then also all the series of events which are not really concerning companies, countless stories of people and surrealistic stories, meanwhile time, my time, goes by faster and faster. Marlon goes around the world with his volunteer mates, my parents withdraw to Germany to renovate my deceased grandfather’s home, and I am still wondering what I want to do when I grow up.

I hope that some other core in my brain has finished filling in properly the form of the file, while I was getting lost in my thoughts. I check the whole thing: the data seem to be complete. Check. Amend. Check. Amend.

Almost all right.

Check. Amend. Check. Send. Filed.

I stare at the screen and I realize that if I focused a bit more instead of wandering off I could get this pain in the ass over and done with more quickly. I can’t though, I feel unfocused today.

New file, new company. Name, registered office, date of incorporation, corporate purpose, company directors, powers. Attachments.

Sign. Amend. Delete. Attach. Sign. Attach. Sign. Check. Amend. Check. Send.

In two years’ time, at least four companies out of six will already be gone. I should suggest to Alessandro to put in the liquidation fee too in the registration quotes, just to pre-empt the situation.

⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎

I can hear a light sound of rain and a quick glance out the window validates my perception.

Probably you will be able to see the rain now from the seventh floor too. Provided it will stay there, all day.

Here are now the Ciapper brothers going past my office and heading off to the deed of sale room: their faces are quite gloomy. They are tagged along by Domenica who is following them; after a few minutes I can hear the door of the room close, there beyond the wall of my burial recess.

I must file the documents, keep on filing. There are three company settings up still left. The first one I am taking care of at the moment, is a simple limit liability partnership so I should deal with that in just a few clicks.

This void, this emptiness, you can almost have it, you know; you can almost have it, you know; you don’t remember what you want1, a gloomy half neuronal processor pounds, in the meantime.

Received. Saved.

The one before last. This is a standard limited liability company: what a drag.

So, with two cores, I am wondering how I ended up here: stagnant, without a real reason nor any conviction about what I really wanted. With my two cores spinning fast, what is unclear is what I want now which I realize now, I just don’t know what it is. One thing is sure: I have never dreamed of having what I have in my life now.

I stare at the screen.

The human brain has no cores and multitasking does not suit human beings: keeping the mouse cursor halfway through the form, I realize that my prefrontal cortex is just sending confused ideas to an unspecified part of the brain; it is overloading my work memory with unnecessary stimuli, wasting precious brain resources which could be better used in order to finish up this wearisome task.

Probably that’s what the notary public means: I am gloomy because of my prefrontal cortex. Not just within myself. I am visibly sombre and trapped in the darkness. I am stuck in a pattern, like the grid’s answer slots of a crossword puzzle. Three across, still, motionless and sombre, six letters and it ends with N-D-O.

I move the mouse and finish off two fields, I scroll down, skipping the optional data, and an unspecified part of my brain states that the file is ready to be forwarded to the Chamber of Commerce.

Send. Amend. Send. Amend. Send. Screw you. Amend. Send. Filed.

This is the last one, the front part of my brain declares, before starting again to endlessly question myself as how my life could take this unchosen direction. My right hand stops again, stopping the mouse halfway down the bottom of the form. The idea overtakes the queuing working memory, elbowing through the newly set company data, and freeze every other scheduled thought, while waiting for the requested processing.

I stare at the monitor with my head leaning slightly forward and my eyes open wide. It’s because it was supposed to be a temporary solution, while waiting to do what I wanted. Why not taking up something else straight away, my PFC goes on undeterred, now that a preferential route has been discovered to overwhelm the other neuronal flows. Unless you have completed whatever, you can’t do anything else, so you can just do something for the time being. Just do it then and that’s it, don’t be a pain in the ass, the occipital lobe proclaimed annoyed.

I hear the door into the deed of sale room open, I blink a couple of times and I lean back on my armchair. Domenica says goodbye to the Ciapper brothers, goes past the door of my office and disappears in her office; Alessandro exchanges a few words with the enlightened businessmen whose faces are duller than before, taking them down the corridor.

«So we are back to the origins: Banano rental estate belongs to Ciapper again, the building company which built it. It has been owned by so many companies, poor building!» he utters.

«Yes, sure: dreadful!. It was the beginning of the end» the elder brother, one of the company directors, replies.

I shift the mouse, I press some buttons, I browse and attach the pdf file and I press enter: this is filed too.

No rectification? Where is the button really? I wondering about this while I save the receipt.

«Goodbye notary; have a nice evening, Miss» I hear in the distance.

She is not a Miss: she is married. Even if she wasn’t, Tamara is forty. In the 1800’s people used to say Miss: come on, get the hell out of here, you too Ciapper, you and your Banano estate.

1 Afterhours (artist), Padania (album title), Padania (track title), 2012 (year)

1.3 IMPULSES
1.3 IMPULSES - ONE

It is 5.00 pm and it is almost completely dark.

I stand up off my armchair and I look out the window, towards the street below. I am looking at the light off the lamppost: it looks as if it has stopped raining.

There are only the statutory changes to cover and all should be done for today in two hours. I linger on the uselessness of this present day which, once again, did not do anything for my existential condition as compared to the previous day; dazzling blue at the beginning and gloomier and gloomier as the hours go by, using this adjective that is now stuck in my mind.

I get back to my desk and get ready to work at the statutory changes.

«Brando, there you are» the notary said with a lively tone, storming into my office. «What are you up to?»

«I am just finishing off filing all the deeds related to the fifth week in 2017» I reply, turning around to the doorway.

«Are there many left still?»

«Only four.»

«Good. Do you remember, right, about the issue we need to talk about?»

«Yes, I think so. Come the evening, I must say I was starting to feel this emptiness in my day» I add a bit sarcastically. «Shall we talk about buying cars? Have you seen any interesting new models? Any restyling? Perhaps talking about that trackday I had mentioned to you?»

The notary is looking puzzled.

«In my opinion you should really try your red economy car on the track. If you like, I can show you the internet site, you can also book it online: €375 for the whole morning.»

«I am glad you are talking about trackday: I can sense you are at least less gloomy» the notary said. «Anyway, no, once again the trackday. Marisa: Mrs and Mr Pardoli...»

«That’s right: somehow it had completely slipped my mind» I am joking.

«Yes, Brando, sure. Please come over to me as soon as you are done with the statutory changes.»

«Alright. I am afraid it will not be that quick, notary.»

«It doesn’t matter, omnia tempus habent: tonight there will be a Provençal Tuesday at the Bistrot and I would pretty much like to miss it, or to get there late; so I am not going before 9:00pm.»

«How wonderful: a theme night. And French too: really awesome.»

«That’s right, Brando, really awesome. As a matter of fact, I want to enjoy the feeling of anticipation till the last moment» the notary says, turning around and taking a few steps. «And beyond» he adds, going off.

Changes... I am thinking, feeling a bit pissed off looking back at the screen. I type in the tax code, I retrieve the data from the Business Register, I attach the updated statute and I click on the button to change the data, starting from the new corporate purpose and putting in the few changes made. I am overwhelmed by a feeling of sickness, like vomit deep down my bowels.

Check, amend, send. Filed.

I press the button to call the notary on my phone.

«Excuse me, is that all the deeds for today, right? What are you doing? Can I pop over to talk about the slut, so that I take a break from all the filing?»

«Sure, Brando, we can confer right now.»

I come out of my office, turn right and I walk for a short distance and I get to Alessandro’s office.

«Here I am, ready to confer» I giggle.

I am sitting on the armchair in front of the notary’s desk which, looking at it more carefully, as that happened several times, it is not really a desk, it looks more like an old wooden table, with an uneven surface. It may date back 1700’s, or a similar period. Behind the desk, against the wall, I see a white bookcase which draws my attention: it is almost as high as the ceiling, five or six metre wide and it has seven shelves. Up above it, there are all the deeds of sale arranged chronologically, since the beginning of the notary’s career, they are facing the room in front, squeezed in elegant black volumes with a silk-screened spine with golden characters.

«So?» I venture to say.

«Just a moment» he says keeping his eyes on the screen.

«Tuesday, February 7th, 2017, Provençal night.»

«What a story!»

«It is the Facebook page of the Bistrot: look how beautiful it is. Pistou and ratatouille: the pictures are very good.»

I lean over the desk to look at the screen where the notary pointing to show me. «Are there photos taken by the chef today while making the food for tonight?»

«Yes, the chef is an all-round artist: from cooking to photography.»

«They are not bad at all, it’s a shame that you won’t be there. If you want to go right away, we can talk about it some other time. You can help your wife organise the evening» I try to suggest.

«Have a seat, Brando: we have been postponing this for weeks» he replies, with an almost peremptory tone.

«Right. Not always because of me, though.»

«True. I am fed up with this issue myself now.»

«Sorry, can you do a quick recap on the latest developments? I think I haven’t been there at the last two meetings.»

«Sure. The last two meetings were confidential, Brando.»

«Right, confidential.»

«Correct. Let’s recap the whole thing and let’s get to the latest sequence of events from a few weeks ago» the notary starts off. «Mr and Mrs Pardoli got married around 2001, more or less. Augusto Pardoli was married before to another woman, did you know that, didn’t you?»

«Yes, I got it while taking care of the deeds.»

«Good. He was born in 1950, so at the time of his second marriage, he was somewhere in his 50s.»

«On the other hand, Marisa is much younger than him, right notary?»

«Yes, I would say so. However, she must be now the same age he was at the time of the marriage. Let me check, I opened the last deed earlier on» the notary says shifting the mouse. «Yes, she was born in 1968: so, she is forty- nine. Right, she is three years younger than me, I remember now.»

«She looks quite well for her age, she looks five or six years younger.»

«Maybe so, Brando. However, I would say that it is not necessary to discover whether or how much the lady looks after her appearance.»

«Sure. Please go ahead.»

«As from the date of their wedding, Augusto has been constantly giving gifts to Marisa. At first they were cash donations, then he gave her the house where they live, and soon after the one on the lake. In the last few years, Marisa decided to take up a job, and I quote, because she was tired of being at home, doing nothing all day. That’s how the limited company was set up to run a retail footwear business: a shoe shop for ladies and gents.»

«Right...» I say feeling a little puzzled, trying to stimulate my neutrons in order to understand what the gender of the people buying shoes has got to do with the whole matter.

«At first the company belonged to the two of them: fifty fifty; that’s what Mr Pardoli said anyway, he could have helped her to run it with his experience in the business sector.»

«Just out of curiosity» I interrupt him «what is Mr Pardoli into? I don’t really think that any file connected to his business has ever been around the office.»

«I think he has a small company dealing with metal polishing. It belonged to his father, many years ago.»

«Right. Anyway, for all the donations and the other deeds, we always talk about small amounts of cash.»

«This is remarkable, Brando: I summed it all up. The cash donations that have been made so far amount to € 55.000. The two houses had a total market value of € 300.000, at the time of the donations, so I think that now it is less. The company had a capital of € 20.000 and each of the spouse had deposited €10.000. So, back then, there was no cash donation, let aside the fact that after a few months, Mr Pardoli gave his € 10.000 share to his wife» the notary explains firmly. He then looks away from me and stares at the screen, without saying a word.

«Thorough recap, thank you. This is broadly what we know, right?»

«I’d say so. What do you think about all these transactions?» Alessandro asks me looking back at me.

«I don’t think much about them. I have never understood why they got married under the regime of separation of property and then poor Augusto started to give his wife everything, despite our attempts to dissuade him. It is okay if we just talk about money, a money transfer would have been sufficient, on the other hand, it becomes a problem when people start donating properties, because selling it then can become an issue.»

«Why did you refer to Augusto as poor?»

«Well, Alessandro, I said that because he looks like a henpecked man, like many of the kind. She is much younger than him, he tries his best to hold on to her, giving her as much as he can put together. These situations are not usually created by logic: these decisions are not made using your head but using some other parts of your body.»

«Which ones, Brando?»

«I meant» I answer him back pausing for a while, «I don’t know, using your gut, I would say, not your head. We say that, don’t we?»

«True: using your gut. Why do you often refer to Marisa using that word...?»

«Well, notary. If I am not wrong, when I use that nickname, you immediately understand who I am talking about, right?»

«Sure.»

«There you go. That word suits the person in my opinion. It’s like when a person is very thin and people say that she or he is as thin as a rake» I reply, while the notary looks at me puzzled, not saying a word. «I’ll give you another example. Today the plump guy with a moustache, the guy from the virtual brothel, Newco Dating Ltd, looked a bit like Tom Sellek: I could start calling him like this if he was around the office a bit more often. You would understand who I am talking about, wouldn’t you?»

«It’s maybe because I have only seen him once, however, I don’t know whether I could easily match the actor to that face: I mean, the word used for Marisa goes straighter to the point. Have you got any more examples?»

«I don’t know. You don’t like rake. For instance...» I go on saying, keeping my voice down, «if I said that the peroxide blonde bush finishes work in ten minutes and at 6.00 pm on the dot this person will leave the office, who would you think of?»

«This is easy, but there is also some affection behind it all.»

«Yes, sure. There is affection too in the definition itself: it describes the person in two words.»

«Yes, you are right. Go ahead.»

I lift my hands towards my head, I rest my elbows on my knees and I run my fingers through my hair.

«I wouldn’t really know... it is like when we talk about a person as a mafioso to refer to someone who goes around with his shirt open and a golden cross dangling on his hairy chest; or addict, to someone who has a dull look and staggers through.»

«That’s okay but what I mean is... why do you think people understand when one talks about other people using these fanciful nicknames?»

«Probably because if you think about it they are not so fanciful...»

«Or else, the two speakers have a similar mentality, so a reference could be good between two people, but not with a third person. Right, Brando?»

«Sure. I believe there are different situations. For instance, I don’t know, I don’t think that the name Richard the Lionheart was created after a conversation between two people, I think that the whole community felt that way about him.»

«Probably we are digressing a little too much.»

«No, no, I take it as an ordinary discussion, Alessandro; if you wish, we could continue it down at the bar, holding a glass of wine so we can get more in tune with the various aspects of the topic.»

«Very funny, Brando. All in all, do you think that Marisa’s nickname is working out because we both think that the lady is really a... slut?»

«In my opinion, she is. It’s a fact: that’s why the reference works out.»

I hear Tamara talking with Domenica and, peeking at my smartphone that displays 5:57pm, I take it that she is saying goodbye to her before leaving the office.

«Brando, maybe just the two of us think this way.»

«Certainly, notary, it could be. What do you think?»

«I think the same as you, Brando. But what is that supposed to mean?»

«Phew» I snort. «Anyway, the last time Marisa was here, didn’t she forget her horrible pen, the pink one? Well, she even rang the office to make sure to keep it here “because it is mine and next week I will drop in to collect it“?»

«Yes, Brando. I found it in the deed of sales room. As a matter of fact, if she hadn’t called, I am sure that I would have disposed of it immediately, because you just can’t keep it something like that in your pen holder: I have given it to Tamara, I think it is still there.»

«Yes, it is still there, you just can’t miss it. Would you like to sit a test, notary?»

«Maybe there something up with you, Brando. Anyway, let’s give the test a go.»

«We must wait for a few minutes, I think. Tell me in the meantime, why do you want to miss the French night at the Bistrot?»

«I don’t want to miss it, really. It is just that it is the fourth edition since the beginning of the year: it’s all nice and funny but then it ends with me sitting at the table on my own because my wife is busy entertaining the clients who come in and out, she must stand behind the counter or look after the cash register.»

«I see» I say staring at the table. «Talking about your wife: I just got another example.»

«Excuse me, I am off» Tamara interrupts from the doorstep of the office. «Good evening to everyone.»

«Excuse me, Tamara» I stop her, «has the slut dropped in to collect her horrible pen?»

«No, not even today, it must be two months since her last visit here. She probably thinks that it is not so beautiful in the end. Why, can I throw it out?»

«No, Tamara» the notary answers. «We were talking about it because we did not remember where it had ended up. Hold on to that, she will drop in sooner or later. Have a nice evening.»

«Bye Tamara.»

«Goodbye notary. See you, Brando. Enjoy your evening.» She walks off tapping her heels down the corridor.

«Test is over, don’t you think? Not even a hint of surprise, a stir nor eyebrows raising, no hesitation whatsoever: immediate connection. I also would like to point out that Tamara is a woman, in case you think it is relevant.»

«Yes, you can’t argue with this reasoning. So, in conclusion, is Marisa seen by everyone as what that word suggests?»

«I would think so. People won’t be surprised to hear this definition.»

⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎

The notary does not reply.

He does not reply and stares at the screen.

«Good» I just say, a little puzzled. «So, we can state that the discussion is over? What were we supposed to discuss after Augusto Pardoli’s two confidential meetings with you, was just a debate regarding how the world perceives that lady who is not so young now, she has an eye-catching appearance, she is a bit common and of easy virtue?»

The notary is still quiet.

«If that was it, we could have talked about it immediately, without deferring it so many times: I kept on trying to postpone the conversation because I thought that there was some strange deed to bring up.»

Still staring at the screen...

«I meant» trying to batten down the hatches, in fear that I had offended him, «I didn’t do it on purpose, maybe I didn’t explain it properly. I meant to say that the concurrence of all these events which forced us to postpone this discussion, was not that bad after all. We just had to postpone a discussion, albeit rightful and of a certain semantic importance, about something that was not so relevant for our jobs at the office.»

Nothing: gazing, pursed lips and relaxed face. He was gazing blankly more than staring at something.

«As a matter of fact, lexical semantics is fascinating; I didn’t know you were into discipline. I have never examined it in depth but if you need me to, just to have someone to discuss the issue with you, I can do some research. I know very well how frustrating it is to find someone you can share your opinions with over something you are passionate about.»

«Brando, have you finished with your ranting and raving?» the notary bursts out laughing.

I smile too.

«Do you think that there are courses on lexical semantics?»

«Of course, there are similar courses all over the place, especially evening courses» I grin.

The notary turns serious looking again. «Fine, enough with this nonsense: the trouble that has arisen is that the husband of the slut... Marisa’s husband I meant... wants to reclaim all the donations made to the wife’s name.»

«That’s where the trouble was. Each donation? Does he want to reclaim everything and leave his wife on the street? Did they fight and want to split up?»

«Something like that. I’ll sum it up for you: you do remember the shoe shop that the lady had opened» he looks at me and I nod. «Mr Pardoli says that it is rumoured that she has encounters with the customers of the shop there.»

«Behind the shop window?»

«No, not behind the shop window» the notary replies sarcastically. «I understood that the encounters are in the fitting rooms.»

«Excellent! It makes sense. If she doesn’t mind whether it is a woman or a man, I understand why this characteristic was relevant in the recap of the situation.»

«Indeed» the notary sighs. «I took the liberty to ask if the encounters were arranged outside the shop or inside it: to try and understand if it was a fee-paying business or something like that. However, Augusto told me that according to what he heard about his wife, she literally jumps on the customers: almost on anyone, man or woman, especially if they are young.»

«I see» I say deep in my thoughts. «Do you actually believe in Augusto’s story?»

«I am not too sure. His version of the story sounds true and I would not have any reason to doubt Mr Pardoli’s good faith. Moreover, according to Augusto, this is not just happening in the shop but also in the city or in other small towns. He described his wife as a nympho with a very strong sexual drive for whoever, no matter if they are male or female.»

«Excuse me» I say, struck by a sudden doubt. «Why would a shoe shop have a fitting room? I have not physically gone to a shop in a while but I do not remember many shoe shops equipped with fitting rooms.»

«I don’t have a clue, as far as I am concerned, some of them may have them, or maybe these shops used to be clothing stores. I don’t think it is relevant, anyway Brando» Alessandro replies abruptly.

«As a matter of fact, it is not so relevant. I was just picturing the lady attacking a customer who is trying on a pair of sandals in the fitting room.»

«Fine, Brando: you can stop all your picturing» the notary replies sarcastically. «In any case, the trouble for us is how to get out of this situation: how can we convince Mr Pardoli that reclaiming these donations is not that easy after all?»

«Right, it’s a big problem. Excuse me, just one thing before looking into this issue from a regulatory point of view: has the husband ever used the word slut in telling the story?»

«Ten times at least.»

«Right: it all makes sense now.»

«Great, Brando. Let’s get to the point.»

«Right» I sigh. «The request for reclaiming can be forwarded for serious harm towards the donor, right?»

«Yes, she did not try to kill him, she did not sue him without good reason and I don’t think she gave false testimony against him.»

«Alessandro that should be the direction to take: you should suggest obloquy and a judicial request, stating that his reputation has been harmed and ridiculed on account of his wife’s careless behaviours. Something like that...» I stop for a few minutes. «A lot of work for a good lawyer who wants to have a good time.»

«Yes, Brando, I feel the same as you. By advising him to go to another lawyer, we would stop the issue immediately and we could lose interest in the situation.»

«This solution would not be bad at all» I say looking at the notary’s puzzled expression in his face. «So then?»

«It may be true: dos est uxoria lites. But I don’t know» he says hesitantly, «what if the husband went a little overboard with his story? If the wife seemed to be this way, but in fact she behaved as a faithful and loving partner? What if she is just seen in the wrong way? The husband may see her as being too open with friendships, but it could just be a wrong impression.»

«Of course, notary, it could be. Shall we go back to the semantics or to other similar studies? What has all of this got to do with being a notary? Wouldn’t a lawyer, family counselling or a friend be more suitable to solve such a situation?»

«Wouldn’t be even better if Mr and Mrs Pardoli would live in harmony and loved each other like spouses should do? Wouldn’t the two halves be stuck to one another, like two magnets, making up a euphonic ball?»

I look at him with my eyes almost wide open, and I fall silent for ten seconds.

«The euphonic ball, of course» I grumble. «A harmonious sphere. In my opinion, we are slipping towards disciplines which are off-limits and in this area I just would not know how to learn something about it in order to hold a conversation with you» I say it with an almost ordinary tone of voice. «I am not that good when it comes to love relationships, I don’t have a clue: I need a full immersion course or even to have some hands-on practice for a few years.»

«You may be right, Brando: it is not my area» he says.

«Not even: it is not part of the notary’s job.»

«Well, you could try to mediate and convince the spouses, in mutual agreement, to reclaim only a part of the donations. Only one house and a few thousand euros, just to get the situation going, but I don’t know if that would make sense at all.»

«Yes, to find some sort of middle ground» the notary replies.

He stares at me with a melancholic and pensive look while I keep quiet for quite a few seconds.

«Look» I say arching my back and bringing my neck almost at knee level, «if you come here, with your head under the table, and you look at the door, the table has only two legs.»

1.3 IMPULSE - TWO

A few people are scattered around the bar, there are mostly couples sitting one opposite the other at the outdoor tables, along the big stained-glass window which delimit the building.

Since when it was renovated a few years ago, the bar at the corner has got a Scandinavian air, as if it has been teleported from Östermalm quarter to the heart of Brescia Due.

The whole place is painted in dark green: the inside, the counter, the wooden floor with wide slats. The black wooden tables are arranged at a fair distance among themselves; the chairs are made with the same material and are lacquered with bright and mixed colours: red, orange, green and blue. In the middle of the bar, some plants which are similar to small palm trees divide up the hall from the back room, overlooking the street.

The notary has dragged me here to kill some time while waiting for the Provençal night and now is walking ahead of me. I follow him past the plants and we sit at the table in the back, in the corner between the two stained-glass windows that delimit the bar.

«What shall we have, Brando?»

«I don’t know...»

«All this waiting has made me feel hungry and has given me cravings for drinking» he replies, looking at me. «Most of all, I want to have a drink.»

«Good evening, gentlemen, good evening notary. What can I get you?» the waiter asks. He is a nice boy, wearing an apron with black and white stripes and a name tag.

«Good evening Gigi, can we have two Franciacorta wine?» the notary asks.

«Sure, right away. Which one do you prefer?» Alessandro looks at me to find out what I prefer.

«Something like a brut, or less sugary, rosé wine would do» I suggest looking at the notary in search of approval.

«Fine, two brut rosé Franciacorta wine: I’ll check inside what we have. What would you like to have it with? Can I bring you our platter of seasonal aperitifs?»

«Sure, Gigi, that would be great» the notary replies.

«Brilliant, I’ll be right back, gentlemen» he says going off.

Five girls come from the hall behind me and sit at the table beside ours. They must be in their 20s and are all dolled up as if they are in their late racy teens; two of them are compulsively typing on their smartphones, the others are talking loudly.

I turn to the other side, and I look outside the stained- glass window: I can see a middle-aged couple walking all wrapped up in two long and grey coats; the notary is sitting opposite me and he is carelessly looking at them.

I turn to the left again.

«So, did you recover from the discussion about lexical semantics? You looked rather pensive.»

«I was just thinking about the situation between the spouses. I told you anyhow that it is forbidden to talk about issue during our aperitif.»

«Okay, you are quite right» I grin.

«And thank you for being here with me, at the bar, waiting for the Bistrot.»

«Not at all: I am quite pleased. Talking about other clients then: I was just thinking today, while I was checking the share transfer on behalf of Anyauto...»

«Yes, Brando? What were you thinking?»

«I take it that the two funny guys did some work on your car; I mean, not on your Ferrari California, but on your old Porsche. Have I got it right?»

«Sure, Antonio and Ermes. My Porsche...» he says still looking at the street.

«I can mind my business, if you wish.»

«No, Brando, this is a valid question. There are no secrets.» It looks as if the notary is taking a few minutes to think it over. «The Ferrari California is beautiful, isn’t it? Do you like it, Brando?»

«Yes, sure: it is a Ferrari. Everybody likes it. I am not mad about the colour...»

«What’s wrong with the colour?»

«It’s red: Ferrari red. For me cars are only black and I just make a distinction between pastel black, metallic black and matt black.»

«Should I have got a black one?»

«I don’t know, notary. Usually, Ferrari cars are red. I would say that many experts would not tolerate a different colour. I don’t know the specific environment: there could be Ferrari enthusiasts that go around with Ferrari cars with the strangest colours.»

«In my opinion, a red Ferrari is a bit ordinary.»

«Ordinary... in your elitist bracket is very common, I think for sure.»

«That’s right» the notary replies. «I think that 95% of Ferrari cars sold are red.»

«Excuse me, but are you telling me that you don’t like the colour of your car?»

«It’s not just a matter of colour, it is just the car that I bloody hate!»

«You bloody hate it?» I ask, puzzled.

«Yes, I fucking hate it.»

«You fucking hate it?» I ask more and more puzzled.

«Here is your platter, gentlemen. I’ll leave it here for you» the waiter interrupts placing the wooden board in the middle of the table. «And your Franciacorta wine.»

«Thank you» we reply almost at the same time.

The waiter turns around and goes over to the table of the girls beside us, who keep on talking with their shrill voices.

The notary drinks some wine, puts the glass down and grabs a sliver of parmesan cheese. «Yes. I fucking hate it.»

«Right, I got it right then. I did not think you would harbour a grudge towards your car. How long have you been feeling that way towards it?»

«Since the first day I went to collect it at the car dealer.»

«Why, where did you buy it? You didn’t order it from the car factory? I thought that was the case for Ferrari cars.»

«I think this is the case for new cars. She was about four months when I bought it.»

«Anyway, if you chose it, it means that you liked it a bit.»

The notary drinks another sip of wine. «No, actually I have never thought of buying a Ferrari car in my life and it was the only one left in that car showroom where I went following the advice of one of my friends because I needed a car ready for delivery. There were a few Porsche cars and one Nissan GT-R: that was wonderful, orange with black rims.»

«Yes, magnificent» I reply looking at him. «Sorry, notary, and then? Why did you go for the Ferrari?»

«I needed to replace the other one quickly; then I was there with my wife, you know how these things go.»

«No, not really. Ultimately, did your wife prefer the Ferrari?»

«Of course, she said that it would have been more suitable for my age and that I did not have the right age to have an orange car, it was not appropriate for a serious professional.»

«I see. Nissan GT-R cars forever: as a matter of fact, I agree with your choice.»

The notary gulps down his glass of wine, looks at me and smiles.

«Actually, with your non-choice» I grin.

I empty my glass too. «Actually, I asked about your old Porsche» I try to say again. «It didn’t look that old to me: it was so cool in my opinion.»

«The same for me, the only thing was that she had a troublesome differential gear and secondly my Porsche was to be replaced, costing me a few thousand euros. They told me that she could have broken down any minute causing damage to I don’t know how many components: she was making a loud noise, quite low, that could be heard from outside.»

«Now the matter is clearer to me.»

«Why? I didn’t know you had a great interest in my car fleet.»

«I was just curious. You know that I love cars, so I was a little worried for your old 911, completely black, which I liked very much.»

The notary stops the waiter who is hanging around the girls’ table and asks for two more glasses of wine.

«I have always liked it myself» then he says, «do you like it even if it is metallic black and not matt like your car?».

«Matt black is quite a recent obsession: the shiny varnish on your 911 looks definitely beautiful too.»

«Brando, do you think that your fuchsia car mirrors make your car look serious?»

«Serious maybe not but the mirrors with a different colour than the upholstery was an optional and I could not resist: I was in two minds whether to go for orange or that one. As a matter of fact, they are a bit tacky.»

«Just a bit» the notary laughs. «At least they stand out from your sombre and gloomy appearance.»

«That’s right. Also, I went in to order it by myself, with no female presence by my side.»

The waiter drops over two new glasses of wine three quarters full and takes the empty ones.

«True, black is a constant with me» I say grabbing the glass. «So, in the end you have held on to the 911 and you don’t use it anymore, for fear that it will self-destruct at any moment?»

«I still use it now and again. I have brought it to several garages, after I got the new one: the two Anyauto partners seemed to be the most reliable, actually they are very good indeed. They advised me to allow them to open it up and in the end they were able to solve the problem by changing just one bearing of the differential gear and the noise went completely. At that point, while I was at it, I followed their advice to put in a new exhaust pipe because the standard one reduces the engine power. And the one that they put it has a sound really...» the notary said, pausing.

«Really what?»

«I wouldn’t know how to express it: really harmonious.»

«Quite a story! Like the euphonic ball?» I ask laughing, while he stares at me with a strange look. «Anyway, I didn’t think that the staff at Anyauto were so cutting-edge» I say quickly.

«Yes, they are really great» the notary says reaching out for his glass. «Somebody told me that they have started to provide a breakdown service in the last few months: they take turns, making themselves available at any time, day or night.»

«They are great» I say. «They keep themselves very busy.»

«Yes, at least they keep themselves going with some ideas» he replies. «They live opposite their garage: they have a barn, where they work, and a two-storey building in front of it, which is a bit neglected, where they both live, each of them with their own families.»

«Great idea, I’d say: home and work close by» I answer staring at the glass in front of me. If they have both of them in the one place, they have less hassle: they avoid being in and out, they save their energy and can allocate time for their pastimes. Such a life would not be bad. It is a shame that for me it is unachievable.

⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎

The voices of the girls are louder and louder; the girl who is sitting at the head of the table, ducklike and half naked like the others, but with almost pleasant plumage, picks up her smartphone, while the others are posing stretching their bodies over the table with their arms straight and holding their glasses.

The notary is monitoring what is happening.

«I wonder whether they are immortalizing a memorable event» he asks.

«Yes, probably they need to keep in their minds the unrepeatable opportunity to drink some liquids in this bar, this very evening.»

«More than anything else, they will record it in the memory of their smartphones, rather than in their minds» the notary says.

«Correct» I reply. «And then they will post this unrepeatable event on the social media too.»

«There are things that I don’t understand anymore: I feel like a stranger in many situations» the notary says. «It is probably down to age.»

I grab an olive. «I don’t think it is a matter of age. Probably I feel already too old, that’s why I feel uneasy like you in these situations.»

«Come on, Brando, were you born in 1979, right?» I nod while I chew on the olive.

«So, you are fourteen years younger than me: it is quite a bit.»

«Yes, half a generation, I’d say.»

«What do those girls look like? Do you find them attractive?» the notary asks.

I take a glance on my left and I examine once more the five diners at the table beside ours, without lingering again on the girl who is sitting at the head of the table, I have already x-rayed her before. They are dressed and made up according to manga cosplayer style: tight-fitting tops, micro-miniskirts, leather shorts, knee-high boots. Pity that they are not at Lucca Comics.

«I don’t know: there’s a fair chance that they look attractive to people their age. Personally, I don’t find them so attractive. If I take into account the tone and the pitch of their voices, I’d say that they are a real pain...» I stop and take a sip of my dry wine. «A bit like your Ferrari.»

The notary smiles, looks again at the table beside ours and take another sip of the wine. «They could be my daughters, but I would feel awful to have given life to those things» he says with some melancholy in his voice.

«If they were your daughters, you would look at them in a different way.» I grab a sliver of parmesan cheese, while the notary is staring at his glass. «Actually, if they were your daughters, I doubt it very much that they would be like that. You know, the genes... At the end of the day, each of us is born with well-defined genes; certainly, the social environment and the world around us do all the rest. I do think though that what you are, that is your own genes, always win over everything.»

«It is all in the genes, is it what you are saying? So those five girls, who I don’t think they are sisters, had a common destiny to inherit a gene for silly photos, shrill voices and tarty clothing?» the notary asks.

«Tarty?»

«Yes» he replies, laughing.

«It’s a nice definition» I smile and take another sip of my wine. «However, it is possible that they were all unlucky. Certainly, the environment plays a big role too: the upbringing, that’s what it is. You would never allow your daughter to be so loud. Bad-mannered, I’d say.»

I look at the bubbles in my glass; the shrill voices of the girls seem to have lowered a bit, while the notary is silent and grabs an olive. «However, in my opinion, if a gene is that way, it’s difficult to adjust it and modify it. It would take centuries, thousands of years» I add, looking at him.

«Have you been studying genetics long?»

«No. I haven’t studied it that much. Some time ago I have just done a test to find out where my genetic make-up comes from.»

«Interesting», the notary says. «How does it work?».

«You send off a DNA sample: a file of saliva, basically; then they process them and after a few weeks they send a detailed account.»

«Brando, shall we have two more?» the notary asks pointing at the empty glasses on the table.

«Sure, why not.»

Alessandro nods at somebody behind me.

«What did come out of that test?» he asks then

«Nothing major: the prevalent genes, almost 20%, are Sardinian; just under that are Basque country and Fennoscandian genes; the other percentages are low and stem from the Orkney Islands, western Siberia and India».

«Here is your fill up» the waiter says while he puts two new glasses on the table and place the empty ones on the tray.

«Thank you, Gigi. This rosé wine is really good» the notary says.

«Really good: drinkable» I confirm.

«I am glad you like it: it is produced by a small wine farm but their wines are excellent» the waiter says. «I apologize for the crowd sitting at the table near you» he adds leaning over the table.

«No problem at all, Gigi, don’t worry about it» the notary replies in a hushed voice.

«I tried to see if they have a switch to lower down the decibel but I don’t think they do» the young boy says.

«Probably underneath their hair» I whisper.

«As soon as they call me over, I will give it another check» he says going off.

1.3 IMPULSES - THREE

After about twenty minutes, the girls stand up at last and walk to the way out. We can now hear the music in the bar, in the background.

«It is so quiet now» the notary says, relieved.

«Sorry, gentlemen, can I get you anything else? Now you can talk without raising your voices.»

«As a matter of fact, it is really quiet now, Gigi» the notary says smiling.

«What do you say, Brando, shall we have another round so that I can put an end to my delightful waiting?» he asks me.

«Yes, sure, I’d love to.»

«Excuse me Gigi, can I ask you a personal question?» the notary says.

«Sure, go ahead.»

«Brando and I were talking about the five girls sitting at the table next to us and the generational perception of human universe, especially female.»

«Yes» the waiter says, «I get it.»

«Gigi, can I ask you how old are you? You must be about twenty-five, right?»

«Twenty-four and a few months, as a matter of fact.»

«Great, you could be my son.»

«I would say so, my father is fifty-five.»

«Excellent, he is three years older than me» the notary says. «So, we needed a feedback from a peer. To make a long story short, Gigi what do you think when you are dealing with five customers like those ones?»

«In general?» the waiter asked doubtfully.

«Yes: do you find them nice, attractive, well-mannered? How do you see them?»

«Ah, I got it. I find them okay as customers: they drank and they paid for it, so it’s quite alright. Maybe a little rude, but no different from other people.»

«Fine. From a more personal point of view, you find them nice or attractive?» the notary asks.

«I wouldn’t say nice, looking at them, I wouldn’t want to hang out with them. The girls I like to go out with are different, less frivolous.»

«Attractive?» the notary asks.

«I wouldn’t say that, I don’t find them attractive: you would look at them because they were half naked.»

«Good. Thank you Gigi, and I apologize for all the questions: we just wanted to have a whole picture from three different points of view.»

«You’re welcome, no problem at all. Please allow me to ask you what conclusion did you come to? Do you find those five girls nice?»

«No, we are both in agreement» I say.

«Yes, unanimously» the notary says, «well beyond every generational gap.»

«However not all the ladies coming here to the bar are like this. There are standard, well-mannered people.»

«I have no doubts about it, Gigi: we were just having a chat, while sipping our wines and sitting next to loud and rude girls.»

«For instance, nice and mannerly people almost always come here from your office.»

«Really?» the notary asks.

«Yes, it is a statistical data. You know, I mind other people’s business, this is part of my job too. I know Mauro well too, your doorman: he is quite nice too.»

«Actually, I don’t hang out with many people from the building, I greet them in the lift, but they all look like standard people» the notary says, looking for approval off me. I acknowledge it.

«I don’t know» the waiter says again, «it came into my mind because today at lunchtime, there were two girls from your building sitting where you are sitting now: they were women, maybe, more than girls. Anyway, one of them comes here often, she is quite tall, blonde hair, not fair or platinum blonde hair, a honey colour, let’s say. A bit wacky, but nice and mannerly. I have seen the other one very few times here but she is very cheerful and kind too.»

«This gossiping about our building is very enjoyable» I say reaching for the glass.

«Where do they work, Gigi?» the notary asks.

«I don’t know exactly, it could be a holding company. Anyway, I am sure they work in the same building as yours: I saw them cross the road today, they were hugging and then they went into the building. I saw them because I was cleaning up the tables for smokers outside» he says pausing for a moment and then he goes on saying: «To tell the truth, I went out to clean them up when they went out of the bar».

«Do you follow the female customers, Gigi?» the notary says sarcastically.

«Sure I don’t» he says laughing, «just a coincidence.»

«Are you sure, Gigi?»

«Alright, maybe a little: they had such a strange way of talking among themselves, so placid and pleasant, and such a graceful bearing that got me very curious.»

«I see, Gigi. So, you wanted to make sure that their manners would be pleasant and graceful outside the bar too, just to confirm the impression that you had inside the bar» the notary added, amused.

I take a sip of my wine and I look at the glass in my hands.

«Sure» the waiter says, «my job entails a careful monitoring of our clientele behaviour.»

«I didn’t think that you were also asked to carry out further burdensome chores in work» the notary says.

«Alright, if you want to know the truth: the other lady, the one together with the blonde lady» he says, pausing with a blank look at the glass window in front of him. «Actually, I wouldn’t say she is pretty, she comes from another planet: she is so elegant, she has such a gracefulness, I don’t even know how to describe her. She is well beyond this world.»

I drink a good gulp of dry wine and I look at Gigi with his eyes lost in the darkness beyond the glass window.

«Is there someone like that in our building and we have never noticed her?» the notary asks again.

«Clearly we miss a few things going on, there in our office» I reply. «We should leave some deeds of sale and concentrate more in public relations with people from the other offices.»

«Alright now, I leave you to it and I go back to work, enough with my nonsense. I just wanted to say that not all the people coming here are rude and unpleasant».

«That’s for sure, Gigi: there are also so many nice people in the world.»

The waiter goes off.

«You see, Brando: we spend twelve hours in there and we don’t even know half the things Gigi knows.»

«You are quite right, I said it: we should do less deeds of sale and have more wild parties in the office» I reply a bit pensive.

«Let’s get back to it, my dear Brando: have you ever chased a woman in the streets?»

«I haven’t. Do you know that it could be considered harassment?»

«Yes, Gigi with his striped apron tailing two customers could be quite disturbing. Anyway, to sum it all up, if you look around, you can see that there are four or five tables like ours, but they are occupied by people who look like couples: don’t you think that it is, how can I put it, quite natural? Nevertheless, I am sure you have noticed over the years that when a new human being is born, that usually happens because two people have joined together.»

«Really? I didn’t know that children were born this way, I was still convinced that the stork brings them along: this explanation seemed plausible to me.»

«Sure, Brando, the story of our big feathered friend is not true, sorry to tell you.»

«I don’t know, I am just not happy to be with a person on a steady basis, it makes me feel that I am giving up a part of me, that is my freedom: I do think that I am not happy to be paired with someone.»

Bloody hell, the euphonic ball again: the two halves that stick together, kept together by a magnetic force.

One half that does not exist for me.

«I don’t know, Brando, your point of view does not convince me completely, it seemed to me that there is a piece missing to make sense of it: I am still doubtful. Can I ask you a stupid question?»

«As you wish, but I doubt you can ask stupid question, surprise me.»

«Do you like women?»

«Definitely.»

«In your rating of life, when you think about something nice, where would you place a person from the opposite sex?»

«Should I quickly make up a list of my priorities, putting in people from the opposite sex? Like playing golf, cars, red wine, white wine, sparkling wine, whisky, women? Something like that?» I say puzzled.

«Yes, correct. Even with less alcohol. When have you taken up golf?»

«I have never played it.»

«Exactly. Now, whereabouts is the female world?»

«I can’t make up a list now: how can I compare activities, objects and people in one list only?»

«It’s a simple hedonistic list, let’s say. Think about all the things that give you pleasure...»

«It depends on the situations.»

«You are nearly there. Are you telling me that you would rather have a good wine than an old Fiat Uno Diesel?»

«Yes, sure.»

«Do you prefer a Nebbiolo wine to a Vermentino wine?»

«Without any doubt.»

«Alright. Are you telling me that you would rather sip a good islay, on your own, at home than spending the evening with one of those five girls?»

«I don’t know, maybe if you are with them on their own, they wouldn’t be as bad: the prettiest one, maybe after dinner, two hours at the most, if she was not talking. Are you talking about an islay, a good one? One with a strong peaty tang?»

«A very strong peaty tang» the notary says.

«I think I would surrender to the whisky with a peaty tang in the end: less hassle.»

«It’s okay: I would go for it myself, with no hesitation whatsoever, but the half generation gap that separates us plays in your favour.»

The notary takes a sip of his wine and puts it back down on the table while I do the same. «Anyway, your strong list of priorities seems already unstable because of a young girl dressed like a hooker. You were referring to the girl sitting at the head of the table, with her bare shoulders, weren’t you?»

«Sure, but I don’t think I said hooker, I think I have just figured it out in my head.»

«No, I said it, don’t worry. Anyway, we have a priority list that can overturn any minute, in constant turmoil because of wine varieties, and new issues of Auto Express magazine. It could be adjusted: if you think about it, you could come up with something better.»

«Yes, I have just said the first things that have come into my mind, but I do think that I wouldn’t know anyway.»

«We are not talking about moral issues, anyway.»

«Uh, music» I interrupt him.

«Music: good, great indeed. You can see that with a little bit more commitment, the priority list improves.»

«Northern Europe, Norway» I interrupt him again.

«Anything else?» he asks.

«No, it’s enough, for the moment, I think.»

«Fine: let’s add it all up to the priority list. The point is another one, it is not the priority list itself. I mean, what is the connection in this priority list?»

«I am not too sure: alcohol, maybe. And some music to listen to travelling by car around northern Europe. Can you see the connection in all of this?»

«Yes, Brando. Why do you like music?»

«I love listening to it, I love the sounds put together properly.»

«Excellent. Why do you like northern Europe?»

«I love the scenery, the tranquillity. I am drawn to those places. I feel a bit of a northerner myself, as if I come from there: it is probably the story of the fennoscandian genes.»

«What about the alcohol?»

«I don’t know: it gives me a sense of peace, it relaxes me, when I feel the need to relax and get away from it all, I think it is a useful thing in those situations. Just the taste of it...»

«Here, we are getting there. Passion, attraction, desire: they are emotions that everybody feels. Do you know how all these feelings together are called?»

«In one word, do you mean? Are we heading back to lexical semantics?»

«No, it’s not that difficult: they are called love.»

I look at the glass and the bubbles whirling and spiralling upwards. I take a sip and I look at the notary staring at me.

«Fine. Love is attraction, passion and desire: right... Anyway, where is the female sphere?»

«Sorry but what do you match with love? If you think about love, what is the first thing that gets into your mind?»

«Instinctively? I don’t know. I would say a woman. I associate love with a woman.»

«You see, we have gone back to our primary list. It is not only at the top, but it takes up all the positions.»

I grab my glass again while I realize that this rosé liquid is not enough to deal with the notary, a stronger chemical substance is now necessary, as I had already considered in the afternoon, right after the discussion over the slut.

«I got lost a little in the logics of the primary list. Passion and feelings trigger everything and I would agree with that, but what if passion was not connected to the female sphere? People can be passionate about going fast with the four wheels underneath them, propelled by a four- stroke engine; for sure that is pure passion, attraction, desire to meet or overcome one’s own limits. If we put the three feelings together, we get love: love for speed, love to run on a stripe of tarmac. It’s okay so far and I think it is all romantic but what has the attraction for a woman or for another person got to do with all this?»

«It’s love! You don’t have to force it into all this: it is already in, it is the feeling that triggers everything off. Everything works because of love. It is already in us and it interacts with the outside world: we do not make that feeling by ourselves» the notary said.

«So, there is nothing without love? And that is because love triggers off everything. So, you run around a racing track in your own matt black car because you are unconsciously pushed by love?»

«Yes, Brando, you are getting my point. If you want to go back to lexical semantics, which you seem to fancy so much, we could put èros into play too.»

«Love is èros: they are not synonyms, Alessandro.»

«Not quite. Èros is always a life instinct, impulse, desire: love is the same feeling, the same life impulse.»

The notary takes a sip of wine.

I look at my glass and at the few bubbles left.

«Passion, attraction, desire, impulse: love, eros. It all makes sense, Brando.»

«Èros pushes everything: I could almost agree with you» I say. I look out the glass window: two youths are hugging each other walking up the street, towards me. The blue glow materialises again in my mind. The vision I had in the morning is certainly perfect to trigger off a considerable feeling of attraction: an urge, a simple instinct not slowed down by a lengthy neuronal processing.

«Why almost?»

«Not to make you feel that you are quite right.»

I take my glass and I get rid of the bubbles left. There could be more to it, though. Life is not just based on impulses, there is more to it, a bunch of different feelings and emotions, without taking into account the reason and all the rest of it.»

«Brando, look at this table between us: it is square and wooden. Look at it all, in its whole.»

I push my vertebrae against the back of my chair, I move the chair a few centimetres back and I look at the table.

«Can you see the table completely from where you are?»

«Yes, notary. I can see it all, in its whole.»

«How many legs has it got?» he asks laughing.

«I’d say four» I reply, looking at him askance.

«Are you really sure?»

«Yes, I am sure» I reply, shaking my head a bit as a sign of disapproval for his sneaky and vindictive rhetorical question.

«Do you know why you see four?» he asks. «Because this table has four legs, like the one in my office: sic et simpliciter!»

1.3 IMPULSES - FOUR

I lower down the windows of my car a bit. The cool air lashes my face, while I set the volume on 24; this morning I played the Solstafir album, it is not that bad.

I glance at the display, looking for the title of the track now playing, and I identify it as Sjúki skugginn1. As I have already done now more than twelve hours ago, I think that each track should have a meaning, no matter how difficult the language is. I am going to read the lyrics again, or at least to give the titles some sort of meaning.

Bass guitars play really low: let’s higher up to 32.

I overcome the humps and I swirl to the left, I cut through the roundabout, keeping an eye on the central kerb, I merge onto the avenue that leads to the university. The lanes are all free from traffic.

I get it into second gear, driving along the wide roundabout of the emergency room and I press my foot on the accelerator. In about three hundred metres, as soon as I get to the roundabout of the baseball field, I have to drive along it and take the third exit, towards the avenue leading to my house.

When the engine is around 4.700 revolutions, I take a wide turn on the right and I see an electric blue car coming in front of me, in the opposite direction. It seems quite slow and quite far away: it will get to the roundabout after me.

I press my break and I put my car into second gear to prepare for the narrow roundabout, while I am looking at the porphyry stripe that borders the central island, where I want to drive over with my two inner tires. I steer to the left, while I just feel a sudden tingling in my nose: I sneeze. The air that comes out so suddenly from my lungs makes me jump. My left hand swerves the steering wheel and brings it back to the standard position.

Bloody hell, I lost control, I ended up in the camellias. The car jolts a little. I go straight and I slow down. I stop by the roadside, and I put the hazard lights on.

The electric blue car drives past me and goes on.

I get out of the car and I head to the porphyry stripe which runs around the camellias. I made such a mess. I have driven over the three plants on the outer side.

I squat down and I reach out to the plants: they snapped, crushed into the soil, broken up. Poor them.

I get back to my car, feeling sad.

The electric blue car too has stopped with the hazard lights on beyond the roundabout. I look at it for a few seconds: the LED light bulbs off the lamppost light it up from up above, making it a more sparkling blue.

I make a U-turn and I take the road leading to the university. I drive to the very end, I turn left and drive into my driveway.

1 Sólstafir (artist), Svartir sandar (album title), Sjúki skuggin (track title), 2011 (year)

2 A DAY IN THE LIFE

2.1 INTRO

I say hi to Mauro, busy reading the Giornale di Brescia every morning in his small glass house, and I head for the lifts.

A dark spot materializes down there. I continue with a slow pace and reach the area in front of the push button panel. The black spot greets me and I reciprocate. Maybe I smiled too much, but I did it naturally, surprised by the friendliness of a character with such a gloomy appearance.

The central lift reaches the ground floor and we go in. I’ve never seen him, but he behaves as if the place is very familiar to him, so I don’t think he’s an occasional visitor in the building. His gaze is gentle as he asks me what floor I’m going to.

«Seven, please» I smile. Maybe too much again. But this time I smile because of his hair, really messy.

After pressing the buttons, he sticks his two thumbs into the pockets of his jeans. His other fingers stroke his thin legs, not very masculine, which look perfectly straight though, inside his tight jeans.

I am examining him. His appearance looks a bit dark to me, but with an implicit elegance: educated and from a good family, quite probably. The body is lean and his height is probably a few centimetres above average. He has green, almost phosphorescent eyes. I think he may be an alien.

The elevator reaches the seventh floor.

«Hello.»

The black spot wishes me a good day. I get out and walk to the office.

I get a sense of restlessness and warmth all over my body: if I weren’t stoned, I would think that I had never seen anything so amazing.

2.2 LIFE
2.2 LIFE - ONE

I take the keys out of my bag and put the long one in the lock, placed under the writing Sbandofin in gold lettering. Four turns of the key and I open the door.

The office is still empty: the foggy light that filters through the windows makes it even more sleepy than it appears at this time.

It is only the second day that, after so many years, I see the office in this new light, after so many years. With the clock gone back, everything is postponed: I no longer arrive at nine, but an hour earlier, so I can leave the office at 1:00 pm instead of 2:00 pm. I always work five hours, but I have the whole afternoon to do what I want. I don’t know why I didn’t think about it before: all it took was asking Teresa to change the timetable, and so it’s much handier.

I have got here early because there is no traffic at this time, so a cup of coffee, drunk in peace and quiet, can help me kill the twenty minutes left till the official start of my working day.

I sip the squeezed espresso and look out the windows, staring at the fog and the slow setting in of the sun. The landscape looks rather bleak to me.

Amedeo also made me nervous last night: he is increasingly jealous and pictures ridiculous stories in his mind, he accuses me of having flings and of betraying him, even just on a mental level. It will be the fault of work, indeed, of his non-work, but he is more and more unbearable.

We’ve been together for just over seven years now. The first few years went by quite smoothly and happily. We were in love and I always thought of him as my only serious relationship. There had obviously been other previous individuals, but nothing significant, just a few short-lived acquaintances, randomly scattered over my thirty-five years of life. Then, I began to long for a lasting relationship, I felt mature enough to handle it.

I have been thinking about it for some time, but I cannot be sure if it was just my will or whether it was influenced by my parents, especially my mother: all the stories about getting older, about the need to settle down, to give your life some sort of stability...

In any case, a hidden force, an invisible hand, the flow of events or whatever else, brought me closer to Amedeo. We met at a friends’ party, and I found him nice, funny and quite attractive. It was 2010 and I had already been working here at Sbandofin for a few years; he was a real estate agent: he was still with the Borgosatollo agency. Later, when we decided to move in together in the house we now live in, he continued to work as an independent agent, getting business straight from building companies and specializing in the sale and rental of large compounds.

The first few years of our life together were not bad, thinking about them now or, perhaps, they surface like this in my memories only because I make an inevitable comparison with the current situation: heavy, stressful life together with an ill-tempered, sad, depressed, detached and certainly not loving person. Sometimes almost violent. Verbally abusive.

Amedeo has always been jealous and controlling, but never like the way he has been lately. If he had any real evidence, I could actually think that he is not going crazy; his scenes would make sense if I behaved like so many acquaintances of mine who regard themselves as being happily married, despite the fact that they constantly go out with other men. But since we’ve been together I’ve only ever been with him. And not so much because I wanted to but as a matter of principle: if I wanted a different situation, I would break up with him. Four months ago, we have in fact legally registered at the Town Hall as a couple living together: we are a real couple, but we could just say it and we would no longer be.

Yes. So, at the moment, I’m stoned: stoned in a relationship.

But it is a momentary situation, that is, not a temporary one, but not even an indissoluble one. This is a recent event and I can’t remember welcoming so much Amedeo’s idea of registering our relationship, but, I agreed to avoid a scene on his part. After all, we had already lived together for quite some time, as an actual fact, nothing would have changed.

It is now 7:53 am and I have to start working. I have to settle the issue regarding consumer credit that I was looking into yesterday, that is sending customers’ documents relating to loans already approved and granted to the various institutions.

We work as mediators: we look into people’s requests, evaluate all the various offers and suggest the best solution to the customer. The lowest rate loan or the financing suitable for specific needs and, for these low amounts and concerning consumer credit, the choice almost always ends up on the blue puppet: everyone likes it and it is the most advantageous.

I head to the bathroom, rinse the plastic cup of coffee and throw it into the waste bin. I go back to the cupboard at the back of the room, near my desk, in the last row, I take the stack of folders from the consumer credit binder and go back to my desk. One, two, three... there are eleven: ten from the puppet and one from Telefin. I take all the documents and move to the middle of the room, towards the multifunction printer set against the glass that separates the room from the corridor. I place the folders on the nearby table. The device is still in standby, I hit the green button to turn it back on. After a few seconds, I read the familiar ready-to scan-text on the small liquid crystal display. I open the first folder, starting to take the staples off and scan the documents.

As I perform these operations, I think about how many things I have discovered in the last few days. An hour was enough to discover a world that stays the same and it is all different at the same time: changes in the traffic flow, different light, different smells and equipment in standby. And it is darker, much darker. The people I meet are also different. Apart from Mauro, who reads the Giornale di Brescia already at around 7:30.

I take out all the contracts from the folders, realizing that in this way the whole process can be faster, I remove the staples from all the signed papers and put in the copies of the documents after each contract. I go through all the documents, making sure that each of them follows the pertaining contract: several photographs run before my eyes and I smile instantly when I get to the last one which portrays the plump version of Tom Sellek that I saw yesterday. On the identity card, the similarity is almost more evident. I realize now that himself and his friend were born in Poland, they wanted a quick cash loan to set up an online dating company.

The appointment with them was not fully relaxing. My feeling of discomfort begun with the description of the business, had gradually increased, until it reached its peak talking about the many cute girls that you can meet online and with the following vague comments, always polite though, about my clothing. I don’t know what the point was, as my appearance wasn’t too flashy. At least, not like the cyber-whores that I am sure pack up sites like theirs.

I make a single stack of a hundred pages and put it all on the automatic scanning unit. I look at the sheets that are swallowed one after the other and appear again after a few moments. I realize that I haven’t bumped into the girls from the fifth floor in the lift that, for several years, I used to meet almost every morning.

Times: it is a matter of times. Maybe he has always been here too, but he would go to the common areas of the building at different times from mine.

Himself: the surprising one. But all this, however, cannot interest me.

2.2 LIFE - TWO

I hear the front door open at the back of the room: it is Serena coming in.

I look at the clock on my PC, which indicates 8:31, while she screams: «Hello Lavi!»

«Hi» I reply in a lower tone of voice and waving a hand to greet her.

I glance over my monitor and see Serena hanging her black fur coat in the closet, then she goes over the desk behind the counter in the hall and stores her bag. I look down at the monitor again and start writing the first e-mail with the list of contracts attached in pdf.

The sound of Serena’s heels distracts me. She is walking to my right down the hall, past the glass window, towards the coffee room. Her body is almost completely hidden behind the plants placed close to the transparent partition. I only notice the highlights of her dark blond shatush protruding beyond the green shrubs and the black heels that can be seen among the vases.

Hi Carmela, I am attaching ten contracts signed yesterday. Do not hesitate to contact me if I can be of further assistance or if it is necessary, I write.

«Lavi, is everything okay? What are you doing?»

«Hi Sere, all right. I’m sending the contracts to Carmela. Are you all right?»

«Yes, all is fine.» She walks over to the window with the cup of coffee in her hand: her slender figure stands out against the light, while I notice that the fog is rising.

I stare at her legs: they look really nice in her tight jeans with those high heels. Lean, but toned. Then I look up.

«Has your son still got a fever?»

«No, I just dropped him off to school, this morning he wasn’t even 36.5.»

«But wasn’t he 39.5 yesterday?»

«Yes, but you know what children are like, they recover immediately» she replies and keeps on looking out the window.

«It depends on the children, I would say. And also on your illness.»

«Yes, I would so. Probably the virus that affected my son was a bit weak and he recovered quickly. Luckily, since I didn’t know what to do with him. I am running out of days off because of his flus...». She turns around.

I watch Serena as she arches her back stretching, she presses her shoulders against the window and pushes her chest up. The quadriceps tighten and show the toned muscles underneath her tight jeans; the back of her feet, hidden by the black nylon stockings, lifts up making her heels protrude from high heels.

«Has your coffee not fully gone into your system yet, Sere?»

«I think I’ll need at least another four or five, or maybe I should change drug» she replies while examining me.

«Aren’t you cold dressed so lightly?»

«No, I’m not: here in the office, it is always around twenty-eight degrees, so I decided to put on my three-quarter sleeves, which are not really three-quarters. You see» I explain pulling the left sleeve down, «it’s the pattern that gets it to stay up, actually if you pull it down, it comes to my wrist.»

«Yes, actually it’s always very hot in here. Anyway, that stretchable three-quarters thing there is really nice, it suits you just fine. Did you buy it at one of your auctions?»

«Actually, no, I got this in a small shop in Verona. A few weeks ago, Amedeo and I went on a trip there» I explain. «Anyway, I asked Teresa just yesterday, but it seems that the temperature of the thermostats is already set to a minimum: you can’t lower it down and it just seems a bit of a waste to me.»

«Yes, it doesn’t make much sense to have such a temperature in winter» she replies as she looks at the pile of documents I have on my desk: her gaze seems to float between the sheets and the neckline on my sweater.

«You know Serena, you just made me realize that I think I left my jacket in the car this morning when I arrived. I just realized it: I must have come up the internal stairs of the building dressed like that and it didn’t occur to me at all.»

«The stairs leading down to the garages are always damp and cold: I think you had something else on your mind.»

«It may be the new time.»

«It probably is. Do you know that today you are even more glowing than usual?»

«Why, am I usually glowing? Like a human torch?»

«Of course, not like a torch» she replies, laughing. «Glowing like...» she says, interrupting herself for a few seconds, «I don’t know: radiant.»

«Anyway, I am the same as every morning, apart from being up an hour earlier and the fact that I forgot my jacket in the car.»

Serena gets closer to the stack of papers and looks curiously at the first identity card placed on top of all the other documents. «Who knows: to me you seem particularly radiant. But who is this here? An Italian Tom Selleck?» she then says giggling. «And what kind of name is this?»

«He’s Polish» she replies. «I too have noticed their similarity. He was here yesterday with his partner to ask for a loan.»

«Seriously, I haven’t seen him go by. Or is he different in person?»

«No, he is the same in person. I think they were here when you were on the corporate health and safety course.»

«Sure, I was out most of the morning yesterday. So, what is he looking for here? Magnum P.I double?»

«I don’t get it, Sere: they look like two regular guys, but they told me that they would like to run a dating site, I didn’t understand if physical or virtual.»

«And what kind of dates? To meet people with similar interests, I guess. Like someone who is looking for people to share his interest in water sports, he signs up and finds a new friend to go water skiing with...» replies Serena with a smile that seems a bit mischievous to me.

«Yes, that’s right. I got that too. Also passionate about hunting and fishing» I reply laughing.

«So, we’re talking about sex.»

«Yes, Sere, I really think it’s a dating site for adults, but I wouldn’t be sure about sex, because it could only be virtual encounters, like chatrooms with webcam.»

«I don’t think it’s such an original idea. I think there are now so many of them. But how is the site called?»

«I don’t know, but I’m not sure it’s already working. I think the company had a stupid name like New Dates, I didn’t understand.»

«Some of my friends told me crazy things about these sites.»

«Like what?» I ask.

«I don’t know if it’s all true, but these two stoners signed up to meet up with their potential partner. However, they did it just for fun: they put in all their personal info and preferences.»

«What kind of preferences?»

«Preferences of all kinds: appearance-related, but also their favourite sexual activity or sexual deviations.»

«Interesting. Then?»

«Nothing, then the portal selects people based on similarities and common interests.»

«And what did your friends choose?»

«But nothing in particular: they just selected that they were interested in flings and then they selected the physical features they were looking for in a man. The portal selected different individuals to my two friends, quite attractive and also from rather close areas. The same evening, they organized a date, each with the partner chosen from the dozens suggested by the portal. One went to a town in the province of Bergamo, on Lake Iseo, I don’t remember exactly which one; the other in a town towards Cremona. They agreed to meet up at the end of the evening to share their impressions.»

«Yes, maybe your friends are a little crazy. They could have been in danger...»

«That’s right. You never know who you’re going to meet. However, to make a long story short, one said that her date did not match the photo on the site: he looked like Yogi Bear but overweight and smelled of alcohol. The other friend got a boy of twenty, not the man of forty she was expecting.»

«So did they do anything in the end?»

«The girl who dated Yogi Bear ran away insulting him. From what I gather, he was saying that she had to end the date in a positive way anyway, because this is the community policy. At those words she started screaming in the bar where they met and she left. The other friend who went out with the young boy said that she felt sorry for him and felt compelled to do something, but I don’t know exactly what she meant...»

«Nice experience, though, Sere. I don’t know, I would never do it: I am against extramarital affairs as a principle, but even if I were free and looking for similar flings, I don’t think I would ever want to meet someone like that, just to have sex. I would look for something different.»

«Yes, Lavi, neither do I, I think. It could also be arousing, but if you meet similar individuals... so scary.»

«What do you mean by arousing?»

«Yes, it could be fun. I would never want to meet someone without my husband’s knowing, I would never do it, but I have been browsing around those sites there and there are also couples who are looking for other people: it sounds interesting... it’s just a thought...»

«Sorry, I don’t get it: would you like to meet another couple, together with your husband, to have sex?»

Serena brings an index finger to her mouth, nibbling at it, and she begins to move the tip of her right shoe up and down by leveraging her heel.

«Is that what you meant?» I keep at it.

«Yes, Lavi, more or less. Come on, I don’t know: it’s not a good idea to say things like that at 8:40 in the morning while I’m still asleep and anyway, no, I don’t think I’d like to have sex with my husband and another couple, or swap couples» she replies a little confused.

«Okay, Sere, I thought you said the opposite before.»

I look at her in a puzzled and amused way as if I am expecting a further explanation on the matter, but she continues to nibble her finger and fiddle with her shoe. Her slightly wavy hair falls on her shoulders and her hazel eyes release a bright light. Those tight jeans, and those ankles, tightened by nylon stockings, finish off what I am looking at, standing in front of the window; she doesn’t look forty-five at all: she looks like a sassy little girl, but well dressed.

And those legs of hers are really perfect.

She touches her thighs with her palms, rubbing her jeans. «But do I have a stain on my jeans, Lavi?» she asks. «Right, I must have got dirty with the icing sugar off the pastry earlier on.»

«No, there’s nothing wrong with your jeans, I don’t think, why?»

«I thought that you were staring at my legs.»

«No, I was just looking at you because I was amused by your mischievous girlish attitude.»

I hear the door open and the four new girls come in, the ones who arrived from the main office two months ago.

We greet them from the back of the room. The four of them say «hello» altogether and go to the first two rows of desks, settling down at their workstations.

«They seem very nice today too» Serena says in a low voice.

«Yes, they seem to have been so sociable for the last two months» I say in a whisper. «At least they keep at it.»

«I guess I have to start work: see you later at the coffee break.»

«Yes, good luck with your work, Sere. One moment...» I add in a low voice, «anyway the four nice girls spared you the explanation of the arousing thing.»

«If you wish, I’ll give you a proper explanation. Perhaps.»

She looks at her thighs, she takes two steps forward and, leaning her torso over the desk, whispers: «And you will have to explain to me why you keep staring at my legs.»

2.2 LIFE - THREE

I look up and notice that the front door opens: Giorgio, Umberto, Andrea and Tiziano are coming in together. They are Sbandofin longer standing employees, already at the agency when I started working here in 2007, at the age of thirty-two. I was starting off my third job, preceded by others which lasted for a rather short period. Here I put down some roots, considering that the job is not too depressing and the work environment is quite pleasant.

The four colleagues are now busy walking to their workstations as they do every day. They are all around fifty-five years old: they have good manners and they always go around in groups, rarely seem to be willing to talk to younger colleagues. They always behave in a somewhat detached and defensive manner, as if they want to protect their group and preserve their greater seniority, which is an unquestionable factor, in my opinion.

They meet every morning sharp at the bar in front of the office for breakfast. The same scene is repeated at their lunch break: always together, always united.

«Hello everyone» I say.

«Good morning Lavinia» they reply one after the other, but with the same pitch and with the same neutral tone.

Tiziano and Andrea sit in the row in front of mine in the large open space; on the other hand, Giorgio and Umberto sit in row in front of the new girls.

It is 8:59 am and the office is almost full, ready for the working day: only Maddalena is missing, the girl who sits next to my desk. She may have been delayed by some strange adversity. And also Teresa, the manager: she arrives around ten or a little later.

I can see the phone LED lighting up and I hear Serena’s phone ringing in the distance. The first phone call of the day which will quite possibly made by some desperate individual looking for money. According to the statistics, the early hours of the workdays are filled by this kind of individuals, as if these characters had spent the whole night mulling over how to get a loan. Usually, as the day progresses, more serious individuals with complex needs begin to show up: debt rearranging, large loans or more specific requests of financial brokering.

I have to look for some funding for the three individuals I met yesterday morning: they came here one after the other, after Tom-the-plump-one had left the office. As if they had secretly agreed, the first made an absurd request; as soon as I managed to get rid of him, the other one came in with an even more unlikely question and, when I was beginning to think that the morning could come to an end without any further hassle, the last one arrived to give me the last blow.

For the first potential customer, I therefore have to look for a mortgage to buy his first house along with his wife. It is an easy thing to do because he is unemployed and with a spouse working part-time and getting paid under the counter. The man is desperate because so many banks have declined his request so he turned to us in the hope to find some sort of solution. By discarding every bank and setting aside the blue puppet, not so keen on this kind of loans, FinExtreme is the last resort.

I press the button for my contact list on the phone, I look for the one of these criminals and press the button to call the selected number.

«FinExtreme, good morning, how can I help you?»

«Hi, I’m Lavinia from Sbandofin in Brescia, can I speak to Ettore? I am calling for a request for a loan from one of our clients.»

«Hold on, please, I check if he is available.»

«Great, thank you.»

I am on hold and I keep my eyes on the monitor. As I have done on many occasions in the past, I try to picture what the office of these sharks may look like, and I am not too sure whether it would be a modern building in the south of Milan or an ancient building in the medieval centre. I switch the telephone receiver to my left ear and type in FinExtreme on Google, while a boring jingle is interspersed by a female voice that continues to thank me for my patience and is piercing my eardrum. I click on the icon at the far end of the window and, after a few moments, the map appears with a placeholder around Lambrate. I try to view the outside with Street View: no futuristic buildings or ancient buildings, only old, dilapidated condos that looked more like public housing, rather than the headquarters of prestigious financial intermediaries.

I scroll forward, and then to the right. The three embossed digits on a brass plate tilted about twenty degrees from the ground, match those ones that I read on their address. I hold down the left button and I position the Google camera towards the top floor, as the tune almost starts to harm my cochlear nerve. Maybe a small apartment used as an office, with Ettore in the kitchen deceiving customers with disproportionate rates, the girl who answers the phone with her desk at the entrance and two thugs working as bill collectors waiting for orders in the bathroom, one in the tub and the other sitting on the toilet.

I am still waiting, thinking back about Ettore’s voice which has always appeared nice and polite to me. It would clash with the picture that I have just made in my mind, perhaps only astounded by the annoying music.

«Ready. Hi Lavinia Sbandofin, how are you? We haven’t been in touch for a long time.»

«Good morning Ettore FinExtreme, everything is fine here, thank you. The reason why I am calling you is that some time ago I asked you for help regarding a mortgage for a person who was unable to show clear guarantees concerning his/her income.»

«Questionable guarantees: yes, I think I understand. More exactly, what is it about?»

«It is a request for a first-time buyer mortgage for a couple: he is unemployed, she has a part-time job, she works flexible hours in a family, working as a housekeeper. Do you still grant this kind of mortgages?»

«In short, she works as a housekeeper for a family of friends?»

«Yes, that’s it, something like that: she’s busy, but you know what friends are like, you do me a favour, I do you a favour, nothing too formal.»

«I see. But what capital are we talking about? And are these friends generous enough?»

«The house costs around 110,000 euros: it is a two-room apartment here in the province of Brescia. Sure, friends are quite generous: in short, I understand that they have a nineteenth-century mentality.»

«A mentality...» Ettore repeats with a slightly perplexed tone. «Ah, you are saying that they are old-fashioned. Old-fashioned as far as the number, of course. But I think I’m not with you: do they have an eight hundred mentality or a one thousand and eight hundred mentality?»

«No. Nineteenth century, not one thousand and eight hundred. Otherwise, I would have said 1800s, don’t you think? The 1800’s mentality would seem to me too generous for a part-time housekeeper.»

«Yes, actually, Lavinia you are right» replies Ettore, giggling. «However, if these are the centuries in question and that is the value of the property, I believe a solution can be found. However, I’ll tell you right away, the rate will certainly not be low.»

«You mean something around 5% all inclusive, Ettore?»

«No, Lavinia, we are no longer able to keep so low: I would say that we are even around 6.5% all inclusive.»

«6.5%? But it’s a lot!»

«We can’t do better now. However, the threshold rate is around 7.5% now and we are well below.»

«Does one percent mean well below your parameters, Ettore?»

«Yes, Lavinia: for my parameters, one percent is a lot: that’s 1,000 euros per 100,000 euros of capital per year.»

«Here, exactly. Anyway, assuming it might be okay, what documents should the couple need get off their friends?»

«They can always sign an agreement in which friends declare to remain friends for at least another twenty or thirty years: a private agreement like this may also be enough. Otherwise, there is always the possibility that they will give them a direct guarantee. This would bring the rate down significantly.»

«Sure, but from experience I know that friends in the end, when it comes to money, they don’t turn out to be such good friends.»

«Yes, Lavinia, you know what they say here in Milan: friends, bloody friends...» says Ettore, interrupting himself and grinning.

«Even here, ninety kilometres away, they say the same» I reply, laughing.

«Then I will send you the details of the property and of the individuals» I continue, «if you draw up a draft, I’ll submit everything to the two people.»

«All right, e-mail me everything. And if the deal goes through, you too can pop over the notary when the deed will be signed, so we can finally meet: it’s been a long time since I’d love to meet your voice in person.»

«Of course: to meet my voice in person, nice expression, I like it! If they get the loan, I’ll see you at the notary, sure: in fact, we have been talking on the phone for about ten years and we’ve never seen each other.»

«You promised, Lavinia Sbandofin: deed at the notary, I’m counting on it.»

«All right Ettore FinExtreme, now I’ll forward everything to you. Bye, have a good day.»

«You too. Bye.»

I hang up the phone, I click on the mail software and, once the cadastral registration is attached, I add a few words referring to the phone call just made. Finally, I choose Ettore’s address from the contact list and send the e-mail.

I click on the yellow icon and move on to the next folder: this is the guy with shaved hair and a bleached mohawk who, at the beginning of yesterday’s brief meeting, also demanded a coffee, convinced that he was able to express the ideas better with a stimulant of some kind in his blood.

Actually his situation was not too complicated to explain: twenty-two, never worked and looking for five thousand euros to go to Thailand for a month with an elusive girl who, at first, seemed to me to live with him in Italy and, a few minutes later, she turned out to be waiting for him for several months in the country of destination. When I suggested him to look for a guarantor who could give him access to some credit, he replied almost whimpering that friends and relatives had completely declined any of his requests. Considering his appearance and his way of speaking, the news of the repeated denials did not surprise me, confirming only my initial decision, taken even before the word coffee: I press the e-mail icon and enter the address in the recipient field that I had saved in the clipboard.

We are sorry, but we have not been able to find any suitable solution to your funding request. Looking forward to meeting you on other future occasions, I wish you a good day.

Lavinia - Sbandofin.

Third folder: the man in his fifties looking for an anonymous lease for the purchase of a car.

⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎

I hear the front door make a faint noise and I look to the far right: I see Maddalena entering, opening a gap of about fifty centimetres, quite enough to let her frail body slide between the jamb and the large shiny steel plate. She closes the door behind her and nods to Serena. She walks along the corridor, disappearing behind the plants, and showing again, after about twenty seconds, under the opening of the glass wall, reaching the desk on my right.

«Hi Maddalena, are you all right?» I ask almost whispering.

«Hi Lavinia, not too bad: I have a terrible headache, I couldn’t even get out of bed this morning.»

«Headaches are horrible» I reply quietly. «But did you take anything for it, like some ibuprofen or paracetamol?»

«No, medicines are poison. I didn’t take anything, God forbid: a few hours and it will go» she replies sourly.

«Yes, time heals everything» I reply smiling.

«There’s nothing to laugh about, anyway.»

«Sorry, Maddalena, I was just saying.»

I reopen Chrome, I start looking for some strange leasing company. I nonchalantly catch a glimpse of Maddalena out of the corner of my eye arranging her bag in the third drawer of the shelf. Before closing the drawer, she takes out his smartphone and places it scrupulously on a stand placed on her desk, just below the monitor: it is a plastic gizmo which I have always disregarded the usefulness, thinking that my phone is quite happy to sit on the flat surface of my desk. She then takes out the usual three small bottles and lines them up to the right of the useless stand, checking that the labels are facing the working position. She closes the drawer and sits down on the chair.

I asked her one day what benefits those three little bottles had and Maddalena told me about some plant extracts that have a positive influence on emotional imbalances, worries and health in general: one for sleep disorders, one for social anxiety and the other to overcome grief, if I am not wrong. After the explanation, I lost some interest in the exact use of the products and now I am amused at this daily ritual, repeated in the same way every morning when she arrives at her office. However, I noticed the colour of the bottles are continuously changed, which led me to think that even the distress these magical extracts are used for, can change quite frequently.

I scroll through the search results with little enthusiasm while, always out of the corner of my eye, I see her busy carrying out the second preparatory action leading up to the beginning of the working day: the extension and compression of the piston of the chair, until reaching the optimal distance between the seat and the floor. I straighten my back a little, I think I have never changed the height of my chair: a long time ago I had placed it in a position that suited to my height, and that was it.

«Lavinia, can’t you see that you too get a back pain sitting on these armchairs? You want to straighten up now: your bones have taken on a wrong posture and it will be difficult to get them straight back» Maddalena suddenly stammers.

I turn to her and look at her beige turtleneck sweater, paired with oversized hazel pants and a pair of hard to define brown shoes.

«Actually, Maddalena, I have no back pain: I have just straightened up a little because I was hunching my back under the weight of the useless research I am doing» I reply to her, looking at her with a smile.

«So, you were just teasing me because I can’t get the chair in the right position?»

«No, I was looking for someone for a lease, I wasn’t really watching you» I reply calmly. «Do you need a hand to get yourself sorted?»

«I don’t need help, I just want no one to keep moving the position of my chair.»

I watch her slender legs, which can be seen under the deformed trousers, not at all comparable to Serena’s, dangling from a height about forty centimetres higher than mine. «Now you seem a little too high to me: don’t you think you should lower it a little?»

«Yes, that’s a bit too much, but I can’t move if I pull the lever.» I get up and walk to Maddalena.

«By moving this upward, won’t you lower it down?» I ask, pointing to the lever on the right of the seat.

«No, look» replies Maddalena, shaking the metal bar.

«Strange. Sorry: try to pull it while I push you down.»

Maddalena pulls the lever, I grab her two armrests and push her towards the ground.

«Enough, that’s fine.»

«So, you’re okay?»

«Yes» she replies. «Aren’t you cold in that sweater there, Lavinia?» she then adds looking at me up and down.

«No, it’s always hot in here» I retort, as I sit back at my seat.

«Maybe, I’m still cold in this sweater. Besides, all that flesh well in sight, are you sure it’s okay?»

«Okay for what?» I ask turning to her.

«I don’t know, I wouldn’t go around like that all naked.»

«I have only my wrists and ten centimetres of forearms uncovered and the sweater is just slightly open around my neck: I don’t feel like I’m that naked.»

The next time, do it by yourself, I won’t help you anymore, poor psycho-depressed bitch, I think as I start scrolling the page again to look for a suitable company to grant a lease out of the usual paths. In fact, the disturbing individual told me in secret that all his cars, including his wife’s, are underwritten with the financial companies of the car manufacturers and he wants to avoid documents of new cars his spouse is not aware of, lying around the house. What he said sounded a bit confused at first, then it turned out to be quite clear: he wants to sign a finance lease for a car that will not be used by him, his wife, or by a person who his wife would like to meet. I scroll down the page again and arrive around the eightieth result. I go back to the initial search field and add, next to the term leasing, the words intermediary registration.

The first result now shows the name of a company that sounds completely unknown to me: I click and find myself on the registration form in the reserved area of a company whose name is incomprehensible and difficult to pronounce. I scroll down, I click and I am on a registration form of the restricted area of a company with an incomprehensible and unpronounceable registered name.

I scroll down, I click on FAQ, I run through the first trivial questions with the relative predictable answers and at the bottom of the page, I find out that in order to register as an intermediary or mediator, it’s enough to fill in the electronic form seen on the previous page, attaching the Chamber of Commerce registration and the identity document of the owner of the individual company that is about to register or that of the legal representative. With this type of access, the following FAQ grants the possibility of requesting contracts for one’s own customers and their complete management through the appropriate online website, getting rid of all the paperwork, according to the last timely response to the precise final question.

I smile staring at the screen, save the address in my favourites and I think I will submit the matter to Teresa as soon as I get the opportunity to see her.

2.2 LIFE - FOUR

It’s 10:35 am: I’m going, otherwise I will never get back.

I have to collect all the checks for the story of the unlucky building. It was Amedeo who brought them here, those people from that hateful company: since he began to hang out with them, his career as an agent has plummeted.

The idea he had about four years ago of starting off his own business was really appreciable. He had freed himself from the real estate agency for which he had worked for some time. At the beginning he had sold a few offices quite easily on behalf of some considerable companies and then he had begun to deal with several residential properties: some sales had allowed him to evaluate with some satisfaction the path taken and to look positively at the future of his sole proprietorship.

Then, I think I remember between 2014 and 2015, Ciapper arrived, with that cursed tower: twenty floors of offices to be rented, according to the phrase that I was told so many times, at prices suitable for the prestigious property. According to Amedeo, the building was well done as for the way it looked and for the purpose it had been built, but the required standards bordered on madness and, as he said some time ago sarcastically, before isolating himself in a depressive silence, no one could understand the choice of the name, Banano, which caused potential customers some sort of bewilderment, lexical as well as geographical: it reminded of a tree not really widespread in the Brescia area.

After getting the exclusivity for the office lease mediation, Amedeo not only did not make any deal, but he did not even get interested people to visit the offices: only a strange voluntary association, some time ago, wanted to visit the building to rent part of a floor, without then follow-up their visit. As the months went by, which then turned into years, he managed, with great difficulty, to convince Ciapper people to give up the exclusive and unsuccessful leasing idea and to put the offices up for sale too.

However, the change in the contract did not change the interest of the market in the building. So, what is the moral of the story? For Amedeo, the whole affair has turned into a real fixation. On numerous occasions, I tried to get him out of his deteriorating state of mind, but I always got the same answer: «We have to place all of that fucking Banano».

The unfortunate building over time has been taken over by the companies of the group: from construction to real estate companies, also passing through other corporate misadventures which I can’t even recollect in my mind. During the meeting organized by Amedeo which took place here in the office, the senior manager explained in brief for me the last, desperate, operation to be carried out: to give Banano back to the company that had built it.

The chairperson’s sad recount also made me aware of how even the construction company is not having a good financial situation, considering that the banks, according to what he was saying, have lending money.

In short, the dramatic account of Mr. Gustavo Ciapper, chairperson and shareholder in each company in the group together with the other brothers who are members of the Board of Directors, ended with the request to find willing financial institutions, in any way possible, to raise the amount necessary to give the building back to the construction company: ten million euros to get from somewhere.

I asked my colleagues for some advice, including Umberto and Giorgio, who turned out to be incredibly helpful, and I managed to put together six banks willing to finance the operation. They are not real loans: no bank has accepted Banano as a guarantee and not even taken into consideration that the construction company could act as a valid unsecured creditor, so any type of mortgage has been ruled out. We therefore had to resort to six lines of credit: pure madness.

Each institution requested a restricted current account with a deposit equal to the amount of the granted credit limit, thus forcing the brothers to open joint accounts with the six banks, for a total of ten million: I am not aware about what percentage of these amounts is taken from their personal assets; however, what the chairperson said made me think that the restricted amounts can be almost all of the savings set aside during a good part of their working life.

My success in finding the necessary funds for the operation, which I describe as self-destructive attitude, turned Amedeo’s face into a smirk which reminded of a smile. He then turned the instinctual expression on his face into a short sentence: «It wasn’t that difficult after all».

Try and raise ten million at the blink of an eye then, instead of staying in bed until ten in the morning... that is what I am thinking while I am staring at the desk. I also remember that the sale agreement of the property will take place in the afternoon and that someone from Ciapper, following yesterday’s agreements, will pop over around 15:30 to collect the checks.

So now I have to go and collect the cashier’s checks from the various banks and then I will leave everything with Serena before leaving the office. I put the pc on standby and take a nice folder with a hard cover from the drawer to collect all the bank securities. I leave the bag in the drawer, thinking that it can only weigh me down, since I don’t need either the office keys or the car keys. I quickly take out my identity card from my bag, struck by the idea that some meticulous bank employee might want to check my identification, and then I close the chest of drawers.

I get up, a little doubtful. Although I have just remembered that two banks are a little more far away than the others, I discard the idea of taking the car and look for an alternative solution.

«Lavinia, why are you standing still in front of your desk?» Maddalena asks.

«I was rearranging the route in my mind in order to collect some checks: I’ll get going now» I reply quietly, thinking that today she wants to piss me off. I bend down, I open the drawer again, then take out the prepaid card for public transport from my bag, and I then push the handle back to close it.

«Okay: I was just wondering why you are in front of the ray of sunshine that is filtering through the window and the rays of the sun this season and at this time are good for my poor health.»

«Sure, Maddalena, sorry, I’ll move right away» I reply, taking two steps back and slipping the card into my jeans pocket. «Sorry again, I am off, see you later.»

I reach the front office and smile at Serena, busy with what appears to be a complicated telephone conversation. She looks at me a bit puzzled, while I point to the wardrobe with one hand and then shake my arms, pretending to put on an invisible jacket.

She smiles and then nods.

Borrowing Serena’s fur coat, which can be recognized by its slightly eccentric synthetic fur, allows me to avoid a stop at the garage and save a few minutes.

When I get to the lift, I look at myself in the mirror: it is black and reaches down to mid-thighs; the synthetic fur is about ten centimetres long and is all ruffled. I feel the lining that touches the bare skin of my forearms: I get a sensation of synthetic heat all over me, while my nostrils are filled with a pleasant scent of cyclamen, which I recognize to be the same one that I often get off my colleague.

This fur coat is really nice.

⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎

«Hello, I’m Lavinia from Sbandofin, I need to collect some cashier’s checks for Ciapper ltd.»

«So, you are Lavinia» replies the employee. «Hi, I’m Maria. I’ll go get them and I’ll be right back» she adds, getting up. After two minutes the girl comes back holding an envelope in her hands.

«Here they are. Can you sign here, please?» she says, sitting back down. I sign, grab the envelope, open the folder, put the envelope inside and close it.

«I’m off, then» I say looking at her. «Thanks, Maria, have a nice day.»

«Bye, good day to you too.»

I turn around, pass the mantrap, walk on the pedestrian crossing and continue following the road that goes down to the supermarket. I immediately notice my second stop in the distance, a bank I go to quite often for other transactions for Sbandofin which also has its own current account at this branch.

«Good morning, running errands?» I suddenly hear a voice echoing on my right.

The concierge of our building stands in front of me, going down the stairs of the building I am walking past, with a stack of boxes in his arms.

«Good morning Mauro. Yes, I’m going around a few banks.»

«I’m recovering the packages that the courier left in the wrong building» he mutters.

«How nice» I reply. «Does it often happen that they mix up the buildings?»

«Every now and then, yes: in their haste they leave everything to one concierge instead of the other» he replies and then continues: «That fur coat is beautiful, it looks like Serena’s».

Surprised by the statement, I look at him a little puzzled and answer: «Yes, I like it a lot too: we bought the same one, actually».

He seems to be inspecting me and I add quickly: «What perceptiveness, Mauro!»

«That’s what my job is about: to watch. Have fun in the bank» he replies, walking away.

«Goodbye» I reply, still hesitant. I start walking in the opposite direction and I think that, more than a keen observer, he seems to like minding other people’s business.

I go to the bank, take another envelope from the familiar employee of the first counter and put it back in the folder. I leave the girl, after an interesting conversation about today’s weather conditions that has taken away at least three minutes off my tight schedule, to get to the last branch of the first block of banks.

The rude cashier hands me a transparent envelope with two checks put in at random. He then informs me that he must proceed with my identification: I hand over the document and he scans it, while I put these checks in my folder. I take my ID from the fat hand stretched out towards me, I greet without any particular pleasantries and, as I go out, I realize how the subway stop is located in the square nearby. I decide to use that, to reach the two furthest banks. For sure, it’s faster than the 10 bus.

While I am waiting for the train, the folder in my hands begins to bother me. I open a button on my fur coat and place it inside, supporting it with my right hip and putting my hands in the pockets, which I think can benefit from a bit of comfortable synthetic warmth. When I reach the bottom of the lining, my index finger touches a cylindrical object. I inspect it with curiosity: it is a simple lip balm stick. I also rummage in my left pocket to make sure I’m not carrying items that I can lose. After realizing that there is nothing like that, I decide to put the stick in the safest inside pocket, which already has my smartphone, and in which I also place my rechargeable card and ID.

I hear a whistling sound coming from my left and I turn to look at it: the subway is on its way and it is slowing down, getting ready to stop. I take the folder out of my fur and I go in the half-empty carriage. I sit on the outer seat, placing the folder on my legs, while the electric vehicle takes off again and I think that in three or four minutes I should arrive at my destination.

I look around and, after making sure that the two people sitting on the far side are looking harmlessly at their smartphones, I open the folder: the two checks in the transparent envelope show, next to the letter to, the details of the recipient: Ciapper Real Estate ltd. in liquidation. Beside the word euro, printed in small letters, I read the inscription six hundred twenty-five thousand/00.

I open the other two envelopes, moving the tab aside and I see that the same details are there on all of them. Considering there are ten checks in the folder, I have with me over six million. Perhaps my state of mind would not be so nonchalant if I were the recipient of all the checks.

«Next stop, the train station» announces the automatic speaker of the subway.

Once I am out again, I am taken back by the crisp air: the sky is blue now and the fog has completely vanished. I huddle in my fur coat and walk towards the post office. In about five hundred meters, going around the building, I will already be near via Solferino. Up until yesterday I did not even know that there was a branch here. It is actually the only branch that can issue cashier’s check in the Brescia area.

Classic mantrap: I go in and notice three individuals queuing at the only open counter. I patiently wait for the account holders to carry out their business and, after about ten minutes, I introduce myself to the clerk behind the glass.

«The girl from Sbandofin is here to collect the checks» she whispers into the phone. She stays on the phone for a few more seconds, then she turns to me: «If you can take a seat, my colleague will come over in five minutes».

«Okay, thanks, I’ll wait there» she replies, bringing my right thumb over my shoulder.

I turn and head to three brown armchairs placed against the wall, next to the mantrap at the entrance, taking a seat on the one on the far side. I place the folder on the glass table placed in front of the armchairs, cross my legs and unbutton the synthetic garment that is wrapped around me.

Surely Serena’s fur coat is really warm. Almost as warm as her hug, when she has one of her sudden outbursts of affection and she hugs or kisses me for no reason. She is just like that: always carefree and joyful. I smile and think about her legs. Yes, maybe it’s true, before I was staring at them, but I can’t help it: I do the same with everyone. Besides, hers are so sensual. I look at the bare portion of my calf, which comes out of my jeans, a little crumpled due my sitting posture. I bend towards the lower part of my leg and touch the uncovered portion of my calf with my almost frozen fingers of my right hand: a shiver runs through me and ends up down my back.

«Hello Lavinia, I’m Marco, nice to meet you.»

The words that come to my left take me by surprise. I get up and shake the man’s hand. «Good morning Marco.»

«Here are the checks, everything else is taken care of. However, at some stage, the gentlemen will have to come over here to sign for privacy and money laundering» he tells me, handing me a grey envelope.

«Perfect. Yes, I’ve already mentioned that to them.»

«Good» he replies, staring at me.

He is an attractive man: tall, a little sturdy, streaked with grey, presumably around fifty-five.

«Can I get you a cup of coffee?»

«Thank you Marco, but by midday I have to be in another...» I reply and then I stop a little abruptly. «In an office in Corso Garibaldi: so, I’m forced to refuse.»

«Okay, next time: please come and see us when you want, I was pleased to see you» he replies, stopping for a moment as if he wanted to specify, «to meet her, I am pleased to meet her.»

«My pleasure, Marco: I will definitely come back for other customers» I reply walking slowly to the exit.

I get to the mantrap, leaving Marco behind me and I press the button to open it, while I have a clear feeling that he is still watching me.

I take a look at my smartphone: it is 11:40 am; the last two branches should close at 1 pm, so I can take my time now.

2.2 LIFE - FIVE

I am back at the entrance of the building now: it is 12:45 and Mauro is back in his usual glass workplace.

«Hi Lavinia, have you done all your running around?»

«Hi Mauro: yes, I’m back.» And I am still wearing Serena’s fur coat: today he doesn’t really want to mind his own business.

I turn to the right and from a distance I see a person who is about to cross the threshold of the first lift following another man, of whom I can only see his back for a few minutes: he is Tom Sellek, I’m sure. I slow down a bit, and I wonder if he is coming back to us for some strange reason.

While I wait for the lift, I watch the numbers above the steel doors. Magnum P.I. stops on the eleventh floor.

While on my way, I wonder what’s there. A notary’s office, I think, and perhaps a psychologist’s office. Being with a partner, unless it is an improvised couple therapy, I go for the first option. After all, he is setting up a company: he must contact a notary.

When I get to the office, I am still speculating with my neurons dazzled by the memory of the phosphorescent green. He was going there too this morning. Anyway, as curious as I am to know where he was going, I don’t think the issue should be of interest to me. So, I focus on Serena, busy with another telephone conversation.

I leave her fur coat in the closet, after replacing the lip balm in the pocket and after taking my cards. I then go to my workstation.

Maddalena is no longer there: she usually leaves the office at 12:30 sharp, even when she arrives late due to her usual morning disasters.

The last task of my day is to scan the sixteen checks. Given that each A4-size scan can keep up to four bank checks, I take the maximum amount of checks to be scanned from the stack and place them on the glass. I repeat the whole process three more times. When I turn to go back to my desk, I see Teresa walking past the glass wall with a smile.

«Good morning Lavinia, have you collected them all?»

«Sure Teresa, look how beautiful they are» I answer showing her the checks.

She takes them off my hand and inspects them one by one and remains silent for a few seconds. «Really beautiful» she then says with a pleased expression. «Well done, Lavinia. I’m off for lunch, see you tomorrow.»

«Excuse me Teresa» I interrupt her, as she is about to leave. «Just one thing: I found a leasing company you can register with as an intermediary to manage customer contracts. Can we register? I need to ask for a lease for a strange client who doesn’t want his wife...» I am trying to explain, while she interrupts me by replying: «Yes, sure, Lavinia, go ahead with that: sorry, but I have to dash because I’m late for lunch».

«Okay, then I’ll go ahead with that. See you tomorrow.»

I go back to my desk, while Teresa quickly disappears behind the glass wall, and I attach the pdf files of the scans to a new e-mail, addressed to the Ciapper administration department. After doing that, I take Marco’s plain grey envelope, which appears to me to be by far the one in the best condition, and I place all the cashier’s desk inside it.

Ettore FinExtreme has already sent me the draft for the requested loan: I am delighted with his reliability and save the amortization schedule, without even opening it, in the folder of the couple, deciding to view it and examine it in detail tomorrow. I look at the time in the lower right corner: 13:07 pm. My working day at Sbandofin is over. I reach for the power button on the keypad with my index finger, but the sound of the phone interrupts my gesture.

«Yup?» I say holding the receiver to my right ear: it’s Serena.

«Sorry Lavi, are you going? Mrs Pardoli is asking for you.»

«Yes, I am about to leave, no problem anyway» I reply a little puzzled. I then add: «Who is Mrs. Pardoli anyway?»

«What do you mean, who is that? Marisa, the nymphomaniac, the one who tries to touch anyone that passes by, when she comes here!»

«Right, I see. Can’t you call people by their own name?» I retort, grinning.

I hear Serena laughing, I look up and see her down there looking at me and her amused face. «Yes, sorry, it was a too formal announcement: can you put her through to you?»

«Of course, thanks.»

«Lavi, by the way, if you are not in a hurry to get home, would you like to have lunch with me down below? We haven’t had a nice chat for quite a while.»

«Yes, fine» I reply right away. «I’ll find out what she is looking for and I’ll be right there.»

«Okay» Serena says, hanging up.

«Good morning Marisa, how are you?»

«Hi Lavinia, all is fine. Sorry, but I’m in a hurry: I was calling you because I need to buy myself a little thing, nothing much, a thousand euros. Can I drop by to see what we can do about that?»

«Of course, Marisa, whenever you want.»

«I have to open the shop at 9:30, can I come in early tomorrow morning?»

«Sure, I’ll be here at eight» I say lingering a bit. «Are you looking for the usual consumer credit, right? Paying by instalments like we did a short while ago?»

«Yes, sure, something like that. I’ll be there around eight am, before I go to the shop.»

«Okay, see you tomorrow Marisa.»

«Thanks Lavinia, see you tomorrow.»

I hang up, picturing in my mind the nymphomaniac’s busty chest decorated with a coarse pendant full of synthetic stones.

2.3 USE YOUR ILLUSION
2.3 USE YOUR ILLUSION - ONE

The office is almost deserted: there are only the new girls having a meal in silence at their workstations, Serena and me. The four senior men slipped out of the office a few minutes ago, shortly after Teresa.

I press the power button on the keyboard, grab the grey envelope and walk down the room towards Serena, walking close to the glass wall.

«Girls, are you eating bean sprouts today too?» I inquire as I look at the four of them munching the yellowish worms away which overflow from four identical plastic tubs. They keep staring at their monitors while nodding their heads in agreement at the same time: this must really be a unanimous yes.

I walk a little further and I get to Serena who is busy writing an e-mail while talking on the phone. I show her the grey envelope and place it next to the keyboard.

Serena looks at me for a few minutes, she smiles and goes ahead with the call. «Yes, mom, the important thing is that he is well; I’ll pick him up at five pm from your place.»

I am leaning against the first window of the many and I watch Serena’s profile, sitting with her back against the armchair. The legs are crossed: the left one is firmly on the ground with the heel, forcing the end into a rather tilted position. Her right leg is crossed over her left one and her right foot balances out her high heel shoe with her toes, swinging it.

«So, I’ll see you later, mom... Okay mom... I’m going for my lunch now... Okay... Okay, bye... Bye, bye... Yes, bye.»

Serena ends the call. «Lavi, this is the Ciapper envelope, right?» she then says in a softer voice. «Just one sec, I’ll send this e-mail.»

«Yes, Sere, that’s the envelope. Take your time: I’m done. I’m here looking at you and waiting for you.»

«You can avoid looking at me» Serena says, giggling as she speeds up her typing.

«Sorry, I didn’t mean to put you under pressure or be indiscreet. I look out the window then» I answer, turning to the glass. I look down at the street and see some people walking along the sidewalk. I think one of these is Teresa: she is crossing the street, heading towards the bank square.

«Here I am, Lavi» I hear Serena almost scream as she swoops over me from behind, hugging me by the sides.

«Are you crazy?» I say out loud.

«Sorry, it was a rush of affection» she replies, loosening her grip and moving to my left. She slides her right hand down my back until she moves completely away from my body.

«That’s Teresa» she says, looking out the window.

«Yes it’s her. She said she was late for lunch: she must be going to one of the restaurants near the bank.»

«It could be» my colleague replies, looking away from the window and staring at me. «Can I hug you again, Lavi?» I feel so loving today!»

«That’s enough: I wouldn’t want you to get in the habit of attacking me from behind.»

«Okay, then if it bothers you, I won’t do it again. You are in bad form today.»

«The four funny girls are looking at us badly» I whisper in Serena’s ear.

«Oops. Maybe we are using a tone of voice a little too loud?» she whispers in my left ear.

«Yours were certainly loud, mine was not as loud, apart from the words I said when you attacked me.»

«Attacked? It may be... And maybe we should leave the office.»

«Where do we go for lunch? I should be home by half past two.»

«I should be back to work at that time myself: I would suggest we go for a quick lunch at the bar opposite the office.»

«OK let’s go.»

«We go down for lunch, see you later girls: we leave the door open» says Serena, turning to the first two rows of desks.

The four heads nod five times.

«That’s a yes» I say softly, «it means they’ve grasped the idea.»

«Great, we can go then.»

I open the door and go to the lifts to press the call button. Serena takes her fur coat from the closet, closes the door behind her and joins me in the hall.

«What a nice fur coat you have: a little eccentric, perhaps, but it also looks very warm.»

«Yes, it’s really lovely» she replies, laughing. «Did you feel comfortable in it? Did you treat it well?»

«I think I brought it back to you the same way it was this morning» I reply. «Ah, you only had a lip balm in your pocket, right? I hope I didn’t lose anything on you without realizing it?»

Serena puts her hand in her right pocket and takes out the stick.

«Relax, Lavi, I never keep anything in my pocket, only this» she replies opening the lip balm and spreading it three times on her upper lips and the same amount of times on her lower lips. «I keep wearing it, otherwise all my lips will chap with the cold. It also tastes good, have you tried it?»

«No, I haven’t tried it. Do you think I steal your jacket and then I start using what I find inside too?»

«Look, you could have, I wouldn’t have felt offended. Do you want to try it now? Look, it’s really good.»

«No, thanks, I won’t.»

«Come on, Lavi» she replies. «Wait, I’ll put it on for you» she says placing a hand on my left shoulder and bringing the buttery thing to my mouth.

«If you really want to. Just once, please» I try to say but Serena has already started it regardless of my words.

«Yes, but if you don’t speak it will all be easier» she says, sliding the stick over my lips.

I hear the lift coming and the doors open: inside it, behind Serena playing with my lips, I see a man dressed in a grey suit.

«Here, you look all nice and buttered up» she says, screwing the cylinder back on, then putting it back in her pocket and turning around. We get into the lift.

«Good morning. Are you going to the ground floor too?»

«Hello, yes, thank you» I reply.

We both turn towards the door, with our backs to the other guy.

«It’s good, isn’t it?»

«Yes, very pleasant» I reply while I feel a hot flush rising up my face.

Serena holds back a laugh and her face turns really pink: she moves closer and hits me with the hip. Fifteen seconds of silence and the lift reaches the ground floor.

«Goodbye» we say almost with one voice, without turning around.

We get out of the lift and we walk along the corridor. The other man follows us and, at Mauro’s station, which is unattended, turns towards the door of the stairs leading to the car park; we keep going to the left towards the glass door and we get out of the building.

«You are really silly!» I say laughing.

Serena bursts out laughing saying: «What a great impression we made.»

«Really great.»

«That thing you smeared on my lips is really greasy: I feel all furred.»

«Come on, it’s not true, it’s so good» Serena says still giggling.

We cross the street and head to the bar.

«But how many minutes can you be okay outside dressed like this?»

«I don’t know, now it’s almost hot: maybe I can resist for ten minutes without freezing to death.»

«Besides, I’m the stupid one... Come on, let’s go in right now, before you get frozen.»

Serena pushes the glass handle, I follow her and we find ourselves inside the room.

«Hi girls, is there just the two of you?» a boy in a black and white striped apron welcomes us, holding some menus in his hand.

«Yes» Serena replies, «where can we sit?»

«How about down there towards the glass window? Or would you rather sit more on the inside?»

«It’s fine there» I reply, looking at Serena for approval as she nods her head in agreement.

«Follow me, please» says the waiter, walking towards the back of the room.

«Good morning, guys, have a nice lunch» Serena says in front of me, turning to a table hidden from my view by some greenery. I go past it and discover the senior guys enjoying a seafood risotto.

«Morning» I say.

«Thanks for calling us boys» Umberto replies, laughing. «You too» the others reply, overlapping the voices.

We are heading for our table at the bottom of the room. The boy leaves the plastic menus he was holding on the square table. «Three minutes and I’ll be back to you, girls.»

«Thanks Gigi» replies Serena.

We sit down taking up two orange-glazed wooden chairs. I browse through the dishes and, considering that I will have to move all that stuff in the afternoon, I decide that not a quick but a rather nutritious lunch can be a happy thing. I rule out tagliatelle with stewed hare, which seem a little out of place to me, I also rule out Milanese-style risotto, and I nonchalantly scroll down the other dishes.

«Lavi, what are you having? I’ll go for a beef carpaccio with parmesan and artichokes.»

«I’ll go for hot octopus with potatoes and olives» I reply a little doubtfully.

«But why do you think they write hot? Can you also have a cold or freezing octopus option?»

«Maybe, if you ask politely, they can also do it flambéed» I suggest. «I don’t know, maybe they mean that it’s not that cold, like when you find it in salads, cut into slices.»

«Yes, it could be» she replies, somewhat perplexed.

Serena looks out of the window and I throw a glance myself out the bar window, in the opposite direction: on the sidewalk a short distance from us I see a man of about sixty, black suit, greenish tie, low gaze with a cigarette in his hand. He is about to cross paths with a girl dressed in an elegant grey suit that comes in the opposite direction: they go past each other and continue in their opposite directions. Behind the man there is another man, about forty-five years old: he takes his eyes off his smartphone and glances inside the bar as if he was looking for someone.

«Lavi, why do you think everyone is going around with such sad faces?» Serena suddenly asks.

«Why do you say sad?»

«I don’t know, but looking around they all seem angry, unhappy: sad... don’t you think so?»

«I don’t know, you’re a bit right though. There doesn’t seem to be much joy around or, in any case, Sere, not everyone has the energy and joy that you always have: you are in this mood every day. If I didn’t know you I would think you use some drugs.»

«How do you know if I don’t?»

«The problem is that you are really this way, without any additions» I reply, amused. «It’s not a problem: it’s a beautiful feature, actually.»

«You mean that I’m, how can I say, kind of frivolous?»

«No, why would you be frivolous?» I ask staring at her.

«I don’t know, it seemed you were saying so.»

«No, not at all: frivolous would be the last adjective that could come to my mind to describe you.»

«And if you were to describe me, what would the first adjective be?»

«But what is it, a game? Is it a lunch break for unlikely questions?»

«Sorry girls, what can I bring you then?» interrupts the striped boy.

«Octopus and carpaccio, a bottle of still water and then two coffees, please» Serena replies quickly.

«All right, girls: five minutes and I’ll drop everything over» he says. He turns around and goes off.

«Here, exactly.»

«Exactly what?»

«But why do you keep staring at me like that for?»

«Because I’m waiting for an answer» replies Serena smiling.

«I meant light-minded, not frivolous, is that alright?»

«As light as a feather?»

«Well, not quite like a feather» I reply, pushing my torso over the portion of table that separates us. «In short, you are light-minded in the sense that you do not let yourself be harmed by anything you don’t like or don’t care about. You overlook any negative situation and focus only on what really matters.»

«Okay, it is fine, it was enough light-minded, anyway, I got the meaning.»

«Just as well! So is the lunch break question time over?» I add, while she remains silent. «Good. Tonight as well I’ll have to bear with Amedeo’s usual questions, as it has been happening for the last few months, during every dinner. If I also have to put up with your delusional questions during my lunch break, I think I might not even get to finish the day in good mental health.»

«Sorry Lavi, I didn’t want to bother or annoy you. Sorry, sorry, sorry» she whispers as she reaches over the table to my hand and strokes it.

«Yes, Sere, you are excused» I reply laughing and pushing her hand away with my fingers.

«Why does Amedeo keep pissing you off? He didn’t even take it well after all the money you managed to put together for those losers of Banano rental estate?»

«I don’t know» I reply a little hesitant. «As for the Banano issue, he just said that it wasn’t that difficult to find money anyway. It has been like this for quite some time now: I think it is down to his job. Actually, he doesn’t do anything all day: he keeps saying that he has to sell all of it, but nobody wants it anyway.»

«So, he is not doing anything?» she asks a bit dazed, «does he spend the days waiting for customers who never come?»

«That’s right. I tried to suggest that the world doesn’t end there, that he might try to sell other properties too, but it’s like talking to the wall now: he doesn’t tell me anything, at the most he insults me and little else.»

«What do you mean he insults you?» Serena asks, opening her eyes wide.

«Sure, he’s got paranoia, he thinks I go around all day to meet other people. In my opinion he is going crazy, because this jealousy has come out of nowhere. I think it may be related to his job. Perhaps, having lost control over his job, he tries to have it on me.»

«You’re good at trying to psychoanalyze him» Serena remarks. «I guess you don’t see any other man, other people.»

«What are you saying, Sere? Of course not: you know what I am like and the way I think about the whole thing» I reply a little abruptly.

«Yes, I know, it was a rhetorical question, just to confirm it.»

The voices in the bar are quite low and the whole room is almost silent.

«Your octopus and your carpaccio, there you go» says the waiter, placing the two plates in front of us. «Here’s the water. When you are ready for coffee, give me a sign and I’ll bring them over.»

The octopus is really hot, as indicated on the menu: when I chew it, it seems a bit rubbery but its texture and taste are almost pleasant. The quantity of chopped pieces, lined with small suckers, is however rather scarce, as well as the boiled potato wedges, which I believe would not be able to make up half of a small potato. Between the slices of fish and the little yellow pieces of potato, I see four pitted and slightly sad olives. Also, the amount of food of the chosen dish is not enough to satisfy the hunger I had during the morning because of all the walking I did around the city: I finish the dish in a minute and a half and put the cutlery inside the white crockery.

«Was the octopus good, Lavi?» Serena asks amused.

«Yes, not too bad after all. Not plenty, though» I reply. «How is your carpaccio?»

«It looks quite edible, but I’m still on my first slice. When I finish the other four I’ll have a more precise idea.»

«What are you implying?» I reply with a grin. I grab the bottle and pour the water into my glass first and then into Serena’s. I move the chair away from the table and cross my legs, stretching them a little towards the window on my right. «This table is very uncomfortable: it’s low and you can’t move your legs; if you cross them, the wood underneath shears the thigh: in order to move them you would have to straighten your legs, hitting the person in front of you.»

«It’s my case» Serena suggests, biting into an artichoke. «I feel a bit stiff too.»

I glance under the table: Serena’s heels are perpendicular to the wooden boards and her knees are bent at ninety degrees. Her feet, arched in the unnatural posture forced by wearing high heels, force the lower leg muscles to stretch, stretching the fabric of the jeans: her calves look really sensual.

I keep staring while I can hear that the voices have lowered down in the room; now I also hear the music in the background which was covered by the sounds of the hall.

⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎

I look up and notice that Serena seems to be staring at me with a strange smile, then looking away from me to skewer another artichoke. «By the way: we didn’t finish off...» she tries to say.

«Finish your nice, lovely carpaccio» I interrupt her. «Actually, it’s true, we left that question unanswered, funny girl.»

«Now I’m just enjoying my carpaccio and I can’t speak» she replies, cutting a slice.

«Good. I could also take advantage of this situation» I add, grinning. I stretch my hands towards the knee of the crossed leg and interlace my fingers pulling it a little towards my torso. Serena raises her eyebrows to express indifference and keeps on eating.

«So, you go on online dating sites...»

She shakes her head.

«You go on online dating sites sometimes, looking for people to meet.»

She shakes her head again as her hair swings around her shoulders.

«You sometimes look at online dating sites out of curiosity, fantasizing about unlikely encounters with other people.»

Serena swings her right hand in which she holds the knife as if to confirm that some part of what I said is true and she begins to cut the last slice of carpaccio.

«With your husband’s joint participation»

She moves her head up and down smiling as she chews the meat.

«But maybe you don’t look at the profiles of other couples, that is, the announcements of other husbands and wives who want to meet other husbands and wives together; no, this morning you said you are interested in these things. The whole issue is twisted in another way, so it seems. Maybe you are looking into other groups, perhaps in groups of single people looking for couples... It would be better not to investigate any further, however, even if the matter intrigues me a little.»

Serena bites into the last artichoke, arranges the cutlery on the plate and wipes her lips with the napkin.

«Do you know that the table is actually very low?» You have to hunch over quite a bit even when you are eating: it’s nice, but it’s low.» She straightens her back against the chair and stretches her legs towards me, tilting one foot towards the floor and crossing the other one on top: the jeans stretch lengthwise, revealing another ten centimetres of the underlying nylon.

«Are you trying to change subject?»

«No, you said it was better not to investigate any further.»

«Yes, but I was saying that because maybe you don’t really want to talk about it.»

«And why wouldn’t I want to talk about something with you, Lavi?» she asks with an amused expression. «You are the person I confide in the most. I was just playing. Please go ahead and ask me.»

Serena lifts her chin up and waves a hand in the direction of the room behind me. Then I see her smile and lower her hand again.

«So, it would arouse you to meet a man and have sex with him along with your husband.»

«It sounds a bit brutal to me. And by the way, it’s not entirely true.»

«Sorry, I didn’t mean to be brutal, but I thought I was right.»

«Not quite» she replies with a serious expression. «Sure, it would be arousing, but I don’t think Luca would like it. So, it’s just a remote fantasy.»

«Just a fantasy, remote» I repeat, hesitant. «Is there anything else you are thinking of or would you really like to actually do it?»

«Could be. It is an idea that came about talking with Luca, some time ago: you know when you talk over dinner, drinking wine, those moments when the world seems not to exist and you are all focused on him who is in front of you and is watching you with lustful eyes, and you can only think about what might happen when dinner is over» says Serena, then pauses and stares at me. «Those situations there, you know.» She slips the heel of her right foot from the shoe folded towards the floor, places it on the wooden floor and crosses her fingers, sliding them between her thighs.

«Yes, nice picture: tender and pleasant, I would say. If you describe it this way, then, it only reminds me of situations which go back a long time ago.»

«Your two coffees, girls.» «Thanks Gigi, very fast.»

«I’ll leave the sugar here for you, this is brown sugar, this is...»

«We don’t take sugar, Gigi, thanks» Serena interrupts him.

«Ah, ok» he replies, taking back the ceramic container with the sachets of sugar and placing it in the tray he is holding in his hands. He also fits our empty plates on it and disappears behind me.

I grab the black cup and take a sip.

«Anyway, leaving aside the idyllic picture, I should therefore think that in one of these moments yourself or Luca got the idea to have sex with other people: indeed, with another single person» I say, «that he is not a man because Luca does not like them. Since two sexes exist, I could come to the conclusion that every now and then you take a look at online dating sites by reading ads of single women looking for couples, or vice versa.»

Serena drinks her coffee and remains silent, staring into my eyes.

«Or maybe a transvestite.»

«No, not that. I would say that a traditional woman would be better» replies Serena.

The voices inside the room, virtually completely emptied, are getting lower and lower, as it is the time when on average, the lunch hours in the Brescia Due offices ends. I turn to the left for a moment and I noticed that our colleagues too have left. I look at Serena and her hazel eyes glistening.

«It’s not so weird: these are things that are thought and said between husband and wife, especially after being together for a long time. In the end a woman is still a woman: a bit like me» she whispers.

«Yes, a woman is a woman: there is no doubt» I reply a little perplexed, «however it doesn’t appear too strange to me. I had already understood everything this morning, actually.»

«And why all this drama?»

«It amused me so much» I reply, laughing.

«How nice, Lavi» she adds, slipping her right foot into her shoe and hitting my boot with the tip of her high heel shoe.

«But how long have you and Luca been married, then? It’s been a long time, right?»

«Quite a few: since 2000, so it’s been seventeen years.»

«And Nicola is already... nine years old, isn’t he?»

«Yes, he was born the year after we started working at Sbandofin.»

«Yes, right. Sorry, just wondering... Is everything still the same with Luca as when you first met?»

«No, it’s nothing like it was when we met. But we’ve been together for more than twenty years, I think it’s normal. Then, you know, with a little dwarf going around the house all day, the couple’s routine changes a bit. But Luca is always Luca: I don’t want to be trivial, but I’d say he’s my everything.»

«So, when the little dwarf isn’t around, is everything the same as before?»

«The little dwarf is always around, but we can still find our space.»

«I see.» I take the smartphone off the table and I pass my right index finger over the fingerprint scanner at the back: 14:11 pm.

«Is it late, Lavi?»

«Not that late, but I don’t really want to go home: I have to move the boxes into my storeroom.»

«But do you still sell a lot on eBay?»

«Yes, more or less, but it is now a struggle to the last euro. Some time ago I could earn a little money, now what I can sell, I do it at ridiculous prices so I even thought about quitting.»

«You always have a lot of clothing that you can use, at a bargain price» replies Serena.

«Right, but buying about twenty pairs of jeans or fifty ankle boots to keep a pair and then selling everything else almost at the same price, it is starting not to make much sense at all. In addition to that, I spend more and more time placing the lots I buy: many items remain unsold and pile up.»

«I get it: if that’s the case, it’s doesn’t make much sense. Did you buy the ankle boots you have on with a stock?»

«Sure» I say it with a smile. «I got it from a shop in Vicenza going bankrupt: a nice stock on bankruptcy online auctions, and in the lot there were also these jeans» I add, lifting the crossed leg and running my hands along the calf and then on the thigh.

«Those are super cool too.»

«I like them a lot too» I reply, crossing my leg again and noticing how the movement caused the jeans to crumple, a few centimetres beyond the ankle boots.

«What do you say, shall we go?»

«Five more minutes, come on: I still don’t want to go back up» she replies, staring at my half-naked calf.

I look amused at my colleague as she continues to stare at my legs. «So?» I say in a low voice.

She rolls her eyes and stares at mine. «Can’t I look at your calf? You, you always do it with me.»

«That’s not true, Sere. It’s your idea.»

«It’s not my idea: even while I was eating, you kept looking at my legs» she replies. «And my shoes too.»

«That’s not true, Sere: I often watch other people’s clothing. You know it’s my obsession and then with my second job it can be considered almost as professional bias.»

Serena reaches out to my calf and hits it with the tip of her shoe.

«That’s true» I add. «I don’t look at legs or feet: I look at trousers, jeans, shoes or clothing in general.»

«I understand» she says with a smirk. «But I didn’t say you looked at my feet.»

«The feet are inside the shoes, the legs are under the jeans: it seems to me that there is no difference» I reply.

«Whatever, Lavi» she whispers. «Come on, you have two more minutes before I have to get back up.»

«Two minutes for what?» I ask puzzled. I stretch my crossed leg and I fix the rolled-up jeans, bringing it back down to my ankle. Serena stares at me and doesn’t answer.

«Sere, you are such a pain in the ass» I say a bit abruptly. «If I look at your legs it’s because I like them, don’t you think?»

She remains silent and I cross my leg again, looking out the glass. «Is that enough?»

«Yes, that’s enough.»

«So, you like my legs: period.»

I look back at Serena, who smiles amused. «Yes, I like them in general: I think they are the first thing I look at in a person» I say in a low voice. «The first I look at in a man, of course, but I always look at the women’s too. I do not know, I’ve always been attracted by the shape of the legs. Very attracted, I would say.»

«Interesting, Lavi: you never told me that.»

«Yes, it’s okay to me to have never told you about it: it is usually not a topic of conversation.»

«So? Does it mean that you are attracted to my legs?»

«I did tell you I’m attracted by them, in general» I snort. «Actually, I don’t like men’s legs as much, I much prefer the women’s: to be exact I would say that I like men’s legs when they are feminine.»

«Sorry, feminine in what sense?» she answers a little bewildered.

«Yes, not too big or muscular. I like the legs on men when they are quite slender.»

«Ah!» Serena exclaims. «More or less clear. Why do you like mine, then?»

«Is question time back on?»

«So?»

«Ugh» I sigh amused. «Because they are magnificent: they are thin but toned and when you are wearing high heels, your calves are all tensed and look very sensual.»

She remains silent looking at me with her intense eyes.

«Is it okay as an answer? Is the third degree questioning over, pain in the ass?»

«Yes, finished» she replies, laughing. «We can go now.»

«Yes, let’s go, before I give you a kick.»

We get up and head to the cash desk, where we find the striped boy. We pay, greet him and head for the door, while I seem to hear Serena’s smartphone ringing, following me at a close distance. «It’s my husband!»

We get out and I cross the street, walking to the square in front of our building: I am a few steps away from the entrance. Serena crosses the street and stops about ten meters behind me: I see her talking, laughing, on her phone, while behind her, in the distance, I notice the waiter who has got out of the bar and is now busy arranging the tables in the dehors.

I stop and look up, trying to identify our floor. The glass construction makes the whole building compact, mixing the levels into an almost indistinct wall of vertical structures that reflect the surrounding light: calculating with difficulty two glasses per floor, when I reach the fourteenth, I feel that it should be ours. I get to the fourth when I suddenly feel two hands around my hips from behind, squeezing me tightly: «I am here!»

I recover from the start I felt all over my body and I laugh. «Could you let go of me, please?»

«No, I’m not going to let go of you now» she says, laughing. I feel her placing her chin on top of my right shoulder and kissing me on my neck.

«Did the carpaccio make you even more affectionate?» I ask. I grab her hands above my hips and try to free myself from her grip as she opposes to my attempt.

«You are so unpleasant, Lavi!» she laughs. «I’ll bite you then!» She brings her mouth close to my neck again and I feel her teeth slightly biting into my flesh.

I grab Serena’s hands, free myself from her hold and turn around saying: «You’re crazy!»

She laughs, while I do the same.

«You’re insane, Sere.»

«It was just a little bite.»

«No, you are insane: you have lost it» I insist, walking towards the entrance of the building, while she joins me and continues to laugh.

We go past the glass door, we notice that Mauro’s station is still empty and get to the corridor with all the lifts.

«Make sure you don’t bite anyone in the office» I say with a grin.

«Can I give you a hug to say bye?» she asks, stopping in front of me.

«Of course, not» I retort abruptly.

«Bye, then, you nasty thing.»

She walks away down the hall, her calves tightened moving rhythmically on her high heels, towards the lifts.

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