Author's Note: Not edited. There are errors ahead.



LOOKING from the windowpane, the sun would be down soon; the hue of gloom was beginning to— diffuse in the horizon. The lad Samuel gazed down the bunch of daisies in his hands. After his mind-numbing and energy draining exams from Lumberto University, it was about time to visit his mother.

He had stored the daisies in a marble vase with pristine water. He secured the stems which each white petals would be fresh and vibrant as it pluck from its roots. His mama fancied daisies. He would effortly searched around the Palermo street to give her one or a dozen.

He could not wait to share the glad news he had, over the afternoon tea, brownies, and melodious jazz music from her gramaphone player. As a form–of excitement, he swiped- back the falling strand of his hair before he scampered down the spiral stair of his rented room.

He halted in the track afore hurrying a step. He scanned his face from the window glass of the hall. The shadows and depths around the dimension of his eyes were pellucid to append concernment for his mother.

He was been hectic in studying for the passing months. He was frustratedly not use to any of his current activities: attending to a tiresome and dull classes, reading some drudging books, particularly almanac, anatomy, mythology, psychology, astrology, and literature. To his great surprise, he survived the life of a swot.

He wanted to impress his mother, who patiently convinced him to go to that institution. Since he– had no plan at first, especially when the funds were coming from his philanderer, biological craven papa. He awfully could not refuse when his mama strongly wanted it for his future.

Who cares about the future, anyway? If the dear future would tell him that his Father will die from his infedility, he would believe that he had a future.

He would be pleased and gratified to meet the man who handles the future and they would have some whiskey.

Samuel squeezed his eyes to shut for short of seconds. He blew a deep breath, and faced the large door.

“ Where are you going, Luciano?” His landlady asked.

It was reading a newspaper from a straw chair from the farthest...