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6 - Sicily 1926

  • Writer: Enzo
    Enzo
  • May 27
  • 1 min read

Updated: Jun 14

It was hot. I took off my shirt. I wasn’t built like him – but I had nothing to hide.



We talked for a while longer, laughing, sharing stories. Then Giorgio said, “Come, let’s sit in the shade.”


We sat on a thick branch of an old olive tree. The bark was warm and smooth.



Our feet dangled in the air. He was so close. Close enough that our shoulders touched now and then when we moved.



I tried to act as relaxed as possible, telling him about the few olive trees I still looked after. About the nets, the first pressing, the feeling of oil on your hands.


Then he interrupted me. Gently, but clearly.


“What do you think?” he asked quietly. “Should we do what we came here to do?”



What… had we come here for?


I went silent. Looked at him. Deep into his dark eyes.

How much I wanted to kiss him.


He noticed my silence. Looked at me. Said nothing more.

Our faces were now so close. Just one breath apart.



Did he feel the same?

Did he want the same?


His eyes dropped to my lips. I could feel his breath on my skin. Warm. Heavy. And everything in me wanted to lean in. Just…

fall.…





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