#mondaymorning #rain #badday

It is heavily raining outside the house, as in my room, Cinzia is crying: she had a fight with her parents, as usual.

Luckily she seems to have run out of energy now, I'm glad she feels safe with me.

The doorbell rings.

"It must be the coffee delivery, I'll be right there." I open the door, a beautiful boy wet by the rain appears in front of me, with deep eyes: I often order something at home from the cafe around the corner of the street, but I've never seen him around. He greets me kindly, I notice that on his finger he wears a particular ring, with a red rose: I have always liked accessories, so I looked at it rather curiously.

"Your ring is really beautiful!" I tell him with sincere interest. "Where did you buy it?" my love for accessories grown in me after all those teenage years trying to become a famous rock star.

The boy holds back a laugh: "I don't remember, I'm sorry."

We say goodbye and as I close the door I notice that the boy raises his eyebrow. Is he referring to me?

"Hurray, the cappuccino arrived!" the flash of the photo taken from Cinzia's cell phone blinds me, immortalizing me with an angry expression. In no time at all, I am viral as a typical Monday morning expression.

"Am I wrong or the number of your followers increased significantly since the last time?"

“Yeah, it seems like a lot of people care about my career! I published a post without going into the details of my private life and I was showered with followers from all over!"

We sit and sip cappuccino, watching the rain falling with ferocity: I can't help but be pleased thinking about the cafe guy under the rain.

"You know you can stop going to college whenever you want, right?" I say taking her hand.

"You also don't have to be a slave to your family pizzeria for two pennies." she shakes my hand back.

"Let's talk about you, you just finished a fight with your parents."

"Exactly, I'm tired of thinking about it! They practically threw me out of the bed screaming... by the way, give me some headache medicine."

I always feel sad seeing her like this, usually she is always energetic and gives me the strength to carry on. But that's what friends do, so I'm going to cheer her up today.

"Why don't we order something else from the cafe?" Just for raising blood sugars and serotonin! The new guy from the cafe is nasty, let's get him wet!"

We laugh and order sandwiches. "Listen, how about some fun with the karaoke?" karaoke is my home's attraction: everyone loves to visit us because of it, although I mostly use it. Once my mother had a party with her friends and sang all night, she said she made a great impression and all her friends wanted to come back soon.

"And if you play the guitar it would be better!" Cinzia smiles at me.

Yeah, the guitar.

My guitar.

Cinzia always tries. "I haven't played it in a long time... "

“Pleaaase, I've never heard you play! Do it for me, I'm very sad!" she tangles around me like a snake.

“Okay, okay, but only for a little while. I put the guitar away when we moved here, it's in the garage. If you give me five minutes, I'll go get it."

"Yes, nice!" Cinzia began to burst out with happiness and impatience from all the pores of her skin.

I take the umbrella and go down to the street. Damn, how much it is raining. I see the guy from the cafe, we look at each other and ignore each other, he rings the intercom and I open the garage.

The old garage is overflowing with building material, probably the remainder from when mom and uncle opened the place. I open all the boxes and the big black garbage bags, full of junk.

The guitar has a hard case and is completely covered in stickers, it should be easy to find.

There is not.

The guitar is not here.

Where did my guitar go?

"No, no, no!" it can't be gone, maybe mom put it in the closet... but in the closet we made the food pantry, I would notice if my treasure ended up in the middle of the jars of pickled artichokes.

Before the anxiety devours me completely, I notice the guy from the cafe coming out the front door and irrationally I call him. "You there! Sorry, maybe I'm an idiot, but... did you see by chance a guitar case here?"

The puzzled boy approaches me, completely wet, taking a quick look around the garage. "You really try any sort of things to flirt with me, huh?"

"I am serious!" I yell at him.

He looks at me dazed and enters the garage, moving boxes here and there, finding nothing.

"There's nothing here."

"It's a hard case, which is usually used for musical instruments! It's big and... "

He silences me suddenly, in his cold, annoyed voice: "I know what it looks like, I'm a musician too." then he approaches me. "If it's that important to you, you shouldn't have thrown it in this crap garage."

"I know that very well!" I start to cry, raising my voice against him. “I had a fight with my guitar and I put it away for a while! Do you ever have a fight with your friends?"

The boy snorts, running a hand over his shaved black hair. "Do you remember where you put it?"

"I put it in sight, because I thought I would get it out after two or three days!"

“Maybe someone moved it. Do you live alone? Who else has access to the garage?"

A flash crosses my brain.

A flash of extreme anger.

I clench my fists, knowing who the culprit of all this is. He is ruining my life.

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