Ciro
Longest fucking flight of my liiiife.
Who even flies to Moscow?!
Me, apparently. On orders.
That I may or may not have shirked for a few weeks, getting sidetracked in Amsterdam.
Ero got to go last month, and I just had to check it out.
Party it up a bit.
Lose a week getting high with a few friends from way back in the day…
Until I got my head back on and realized I needed to get to it, to follow through on Adriano’s plans. Namely, to get as far away from Dom for the time being.
Being.
Seeing.
Freeing. Maybe I should free that watch from the display window of that store…
Stop.
Sometimes the repetitive thoughts, the intrusive thoughts, I think they call them, get so damn loud in my brain that I almost can’t see straight. See anything around me.
That’s why my mouth is always running.
It’s like a valve, dribbling off the excess of my runaway brain.
As a kid it always felt like if I stopped talking, held it all in like teachers and the elders always wanted me to, I’d flat out, no joke,explode.
I got good at finding the right places to vent.
Most notably to my twin brother who rarely says jack shit. Or I get a little drunk, get into a little fight. Maybe do a backflip off of a high place into a deep pool.
No pools for me hear, though.
Moscow iscold. Way too fucking cold for my taste. Why can’t I get the sweet jobs, the beach paradise? Like all the ones my emotionally challenged twin brother seems to get.
Instead, it’s mosquito-infested jungles or a frozen wasteland dystopia.
I swear they do it just to punish me for complaining. Aless, Adri, and Dom too. Though the latter really is vindictive and has it out for us, I am 100 percent positive about him taking it out on me via his assignments.
I crunch my way down a dark, abandoned alleyway beside a dilapidated warehouse. Classic place to get jumped.
Rubbing my hands together, I set to scoping the place out, shivering despite the jacket I put on over my outfit at the hotel. You’d think that I’d be used to the cold, growing up in NYC, brutal winters and all.
But I’m a fancy city boy.
And a rich kid.
I spent as many winters in the tropics as Aless would let me get away with.
“For fuck’s sake, it’s barely the end of summer.”
But of course, the day I arrived the cold front came through.