“His name was Guido. I‘d been enjoying a crisp, spring morning at my favorite outdoor cafe in the Montepuliano outskirts when he arrived. By “arrived” I mean one moment I was alone, and the next I wasn’t. I’d stolen a quick moment to study him as he settled on a stool across from me and estimated his age to be about 55; he soon confirmed that fact.
“Well,” he said, “At least I had been…right before my death.” And so the tale of his ending begins with a chat over the too dark and much too rich morning coffee I shouldn’t have been drinking.
“It’s funny how when one conducts their life responsibly for a short period of time they feel they deserve to be rewarded with the very thing that should be avoided like the plague. As my personal testament to that fact, when I was cheerfully dressing that morning my internal dialog went something like this…”
<stay tuned for the next installment!>
Excerpt: Copyright © 2015 by Ana Livingston. All rights reserved.