By Carl Schonbeck
Three friends sat drinking and laughing on the stony Ligurian beach. From a distance they seemed like hobos by the sea but in fact they were English teachers in Milan. The bottle of Bonarda wine was nearly empty and a Sunday evening melancholy began to fill the air.
“Thanks for letting us stay with you Graves”, said Colin to the older man sitting on his left. “After a weekend in Albissola being a vagabond doesn’t seem so bad”, he laughed.
“It was a pleasure to have some company for a change”, replied Graves. He’d moved to Milan from Los Angeles some 10 years earlier to be a writer. He was a good friend.
“Vagabond? Speak for yourself Colin!” exclaimed George, the even younger man to Graves’ left.
“I’m a bohemian”.
“When do you and George sign the contract for your flat?” asked Graves.
“Next Friday afternoon, right after our lessons”, replied Colin. “Home sweet home”.
“Home sweet home”, repeated George.
Argomenti: carl schonbeck, fiction, wake-up call
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