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About Milan

So I’m hyped, right? Text this chick—nerves kickin in. “What’s your name, darlin?” I ask, quotin Jesse. She’s like, “Lola, $200, downtown.” Whoa. Meets me near this sketchy motel—neon buzzin, heart racin. She’s legit, tho—smells like cheap perfume, smirks like she knows shit. “Ain’t no saint here,” she says, laughin. I’m crackin up too—damn, she’s cool. Reminds me of Jesse’s crew, all rough edges.

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Finally, the lights flicker back on, and I’m like, “Phew!” But then, I hear this commotion outside. I peek outta the window on Via Mazzini, and there’s a parade! A freakin’ parade! I mean, who schedules a parade on a Tuesday? I’m tryin’ to work here! But then I see the floats, and they’re all colorful and loud. I can’t help but smile. Kids are runnin’ around, people are laughin’. It’s like a scene from a movie.

Volvera, Turin: Murder-suicide. 34-year-old kills neighbors and takes his own life.