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March 14, 1999. The owls soared through Naples sky and landed on nearby tree branches.
With his police uniform hanging off his body, Leone Abbacchio stood at the vending machine. The glow of the vending machine ricocheted off his body as he pressed the button for his drink. While waiting for his drink, Abbacchio felt a pair of eyes watching him in the distance. He turned to see a suspected gang member, standing beside the machine.
Leone’s partner, Alessandro, had suspected Bruno Bucciarati of being a part of a rumored gang, screwing up the police work and causing trouble for the city. “Scusa, tu Italiano, vero?”, Bucciarati asked. Bucciarati was the supposed gang member, now standing before Abbacchio.
“Sì. Ah! Excuse me”. Leone grabbed his drink from the vending machine as Bucciarati saw a bench beside a market. He sat down and offered Leone to join him.
Leone was hesitant. How could he even trust him if he was in a supposed gang? “You’re not going to keep me waiting, are you?”, Bucciarati asked.
Leone squeezed the drink in his hand and sat beside Bucciarati on the bench. ‘You’re fine, Mr. Officer. I just have a few questions for you”. Leone sat back as he waited for Bucciarati to speak. Bucciarati stared up at the stars and leaned forward.
“You’re part of the police force, correct? Considering your uniform, I’d say you’re one of the newer officers”. Leone raised his eyebrows. He hadn’t had anyone read him that easily. “Apologies. You seem to be..caught off guard?”.
Leone laughed. “You sound like you’re here to kill me”. Bruno stood up and stretched. “Kill you? No, I wasn’t ordered to do that”.
Leone stood up to confront Bruno, but stopped by Bruno turning around. “Calm down, Abbacchio. That was a joke. You took it seriously?”.
Leone thought for a moment. ‘Why would Bruno even joke about that? Did he know something he shouldn’t?’.
Bruno checked his watch and noticed the time. “Apologies for the cut, but I must be off. Until we meet again”. Bruno waved before disappearing around the corner.
Leone ran to the corner to find a blank, brick wall. ‘How could he disappear so quickly?’, He thought. Leone looked down the street until he found a slip of paper, falling from the rooftops. Leone looked up to see a shadow disappearing.
He picked up the piece of paper and opened it to find a name quickly written with a blue ink pen. It read his name with his number scribbled at the bottom.
Leone quickly shoved the note in his pocket before leaving the street, as he felt a pair of eyes watching him.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
March 28, 1999.Bucciarati walked across the cobblestone path, stretching from the beachside to the Naples plaza. As Bucciarati arrived at the flower shop, Viretta’s Garden, he was approached by the owner.“Bucciarati! It’s good to see you!”. Viretta hugged Bucciarati and squeezed him between her arms. “It’s good to see you, too”. Viretta pulled apart and apologized.She offered Bucciarati her hand. When Bucciarati took her hand, she dragged him into the flower shop. The glass door shut as Viretta searched the nearby shelf, covered in different colored roses.“You like roses, right? Roses with your mother’s colors”. Bucciarati gazed over at the roses, following Viretta’s questions. “Like this?”.Viretta held a bouquet of pink roses tied with a yellow ribbon. “Grazie mille, Viretta”. Bucciarati held the bouquet as Viretta waved goodbye. “It’s on the house! Tell your mother I said hi!”. Bucciarati nodded.“I will, thank you”. Bucciarati left the store and felt his phone buzzing in his pocket. Before he could check his phone, Bucciarati saw a familiar cop getting a cup of coffee. Bucciarati approached him, which startled him.“Abbacchio, right? What are you doing on this side of town?”. Abbacchio laughed. “I’m always on this side of town? I don’t think you’re here often”.“Hey Abbacchio! We have that job to get to”. Abbacchio nodded. ‘I gotta go. Will you be here later? 7 pm?”.“Is that a date?”, Bucciarati asked, a hint of skepticism in his voice. “Maybe it is”. Abbacchio waved to Bucciarati before meeting with his partner.Bucciarati sighed to himself, silently hoping it wasn’t a date. Ever since his last relationship, he hasn’t been ready for a new one.Bucciarati dug his phone out of his pocket and leaned on a street lamp. Messages from his friends filled his notification box as Bucciarati searched for his mother’s ID. Irena Bucciarati.Bucciarati watched the birds flying off the lamppost and into the trees while dialing her number. Irena picked up and Bucciarati spoke to her while walking home.