be worried."
He wears a really nice collar. He's too clean and sociable to be for a stray.
"Meow." He appreciates my attention and purrs at me.
A tag pops out of his collar that I hadn't noticed before. There is opaque writing on it. I try to read it.
"Lil... what's next? It doesn't read well, maybe your name is Lilli? Are you a sissy then? Let's see if I can find you master."
I walk out the door and go to the intercom. I start ringing one by one to all the tenants. Except for three who don't seem to be home, they all answer me that they are not the owners.
"Now what am I going to do with you? I don't feel like putting you out on the street. I'll tell you what: I'll host you and I'll commit myself to finding your owner, but only for a few days at the most, but then..." With my hands I make a gesture more than eloquent even for the understanding of a feline.
"Meow." He seems to agree. Pact sealed.
I open the door with the keys and as soon as the door opens, he frees himself from my grasp with an agile move and quickly enters the house.
"Yes, good, go ahead and make yourself at home, don't worry."
Elegantly he points straight at the sofa as if he already knew the environment and with a decisive leap he takes possession of it. Sitting in a composed manner, she moves her paw. It seems absurd, but I could swear that she is pointing to the kitchen. If she's hungry, then that means there are two of us.
"Fine: I'll cook tonight, but we're agreed that you'll do the dishes afterwards!"
Of course I must have gone crazy if I'm talking to a cat and making a deal with it. What female, human or not, in history has ever respected a pact?
The cat seems to have fallen asleep, but I don't really want to sleep and the TV doesn't show any program worthy of attention. I get up listlessly from the couch, letting the bluish light of the television give some colour to the room, and I look out the window. The thought of Roberto's fate is now a permanent concern, but I put it aside for a moment to admire the beautiful moon that illuminates the almost deserted street this evening. It's that almost that upsets me.
That bike again! I'm not wrong and it can't be just a coincidence. But where is the owner? I try to read the license plate: too far away. Okay, you won't get away from me this time.
I grab a piece of paper and a pen from the shelf, put on a jacket and hurry out to check for myself.
Gone. Damn it, it's gone! Yet I was a missile and didn't give her time to disappear. Unless I dreamed her, but I don't think I've gone that stupid.
I returned to the apartment and noticed that the front door was open. But didn't I close it? My eye falls on the couch: where did the cat go? I look for him, but he seems to have disappeared too.
What is this, the evening dedicated to Houdini?
Office
Is it possible that in this period my office is always flooded with papers? Okay, let's take a coffee break and call Roberto's sister.
"Hi, it's me: Davide. Any news of your brother?"
"Hi. The doctors say he's stable. I managed to see him, albeit only for a few minutes, but what happened? Blessed God, I almost didn't recognize him!" Her voice trembles.
"To tell you the truth, I was hoping you would know more, but listen to me: now you don't have to worry, he's being kept under control and you'll see that when he recovers everything will be back to normal and he'll explain everything to us."
"I don't know... I'm scared, I've never seen him like this!"
Can I blame her?
"Because you've never been there during one of our beer nights!" Bluff, maybe she believes it.
"Beer? But what beer! They didn't find a drop of alcohol in his blood, let alone traces of drugs!"
He didn't believe it. Let's try to change tactics.
"Did they mention the congenital disease hypothesis to you?"
"Yes! And I'm super sure it can't be, we've always been healthy in our family. Then there's the matter of all that missing blood, and you want to know another weird one? Apparently the only place it could be leaking from is a bruise on her neck, and there isn't even a tiny hole to give it any logic!"
"Ah!" Blown away. I try to baste something else.
"You'll see... but yes, you'll see that before long the doctors will figure out what's wrong with her and everything will seem simple. Don't make things more complicated than they are, after all, neither you nor I have a medical degree. Let those who are more competent than us draw the right conclusions."
"I'm trying, Davide, I'm really trying, but right now it's not easy to be optimistic. But you really have no idea what he might have been doing these days, or what company he was keeping? Maybe if we go back a few days before it happened, we could figure it out more."
"I know something about a girl he was seeing..."
Best to avoid specifics.
"...but I haven't had a chance to go into it properly, I don't even know her name, or where she lives."
"I understand... but if anything comes to mind, please tell me right away!"
"Count on it, don't worry."
Could I tell her that the girl is probably a nymphomaniac maniac picked up in the bathroom of a pub frequented mostly by exalted lunatics?
Come to think of it, though, Sara might not have it completely wrong. What if you investigated this phantom lady x a little more? With any luck it might be relatable to the woman on the bike.
It would take some sort of starting point that would reconnect the facts...um...maybe friends on the net. Yeah, if I could track them down, they could point me to the club he was at that night and maybe with a little luck I could meet her. From what I understand, the chick is guaranteed not to go unnoticed anyway.
What was the name of the site where she was chatting? Damn my memory!
I have to remember...
I have to remember...
Hospital
"Hi Sara. Do you think they'll let me in to visit today?"
She looks at me as if trying to get rid of a thought that had kidnapped her and taken her elsewhere. Probably, if I hadn't spoken to her, she wouldn't have noticed me. I get up from the bench and, occupying her entire field of vision, I help her to compose my figure. It works.
"Oh, David! Excuse me, have you been here long?"
"No, just now..." About three quarters of an hour.
"Roberto? How is he today?" I investigate, but his face doesn't hint at anything good.
"He's recovering, except for the amnesia." She is incredulous.
"Amnesia?"
Holy shit, is this getting worse instead of better?
"Yes, the doctors say it's due to severe psychological trauma and that it's probably temporary. Davide, it honestly doesn't sound like amnesia to me. When I tried to talk to him he would stare at me with his eyes wide open as if he didn't understand." This might be within the range of normal.
"Sorry, but at this point I'd like to check it out for myself. I don't know what my chances are of being recognized, but if it's okay with you, I'd like to try anyway."
"That's fine, but let's try not to tire him out too much."
I walk through the door of the room and contemplate in amazement the figure of the man who was once a great friend of mine. I struggle to frame him. Above the bed, with his back against the pillows, his gaze is immersed in the emptiness of the beige wall. His hair is completely white. Deep wrinkles run down the sides of his mouth and forehead. My