I love you, best friend.
He tried to focus on his book, but it was no use. The skyline called. And the setting sun warmed his face too gently to be ignored. He looked up to give it the attention it deserved and as he held its piercing gaze, the memory of that place he once called home came to him again.
Why had he even left Italy in the first place? These days, it was hard for him to remember. Well, sometimes. Other times, there were days like today with moments like this one where New York City seemed like the most beautiful place in the world. But most days, his soul knew better. Those hills, that sun- nothing could rival it in all the world. He was sure of it. But as lovely as it was, scenery alone couldn't make him stay. It wasn't enough. The small town life just wasn't the kind of life he was made for. He knew his heart was longing for adventure that was bigger than these vineyards could ever contain within them. And so he had waved goodbye to the only place he had ever known to come to a place where they all said dreams came true.
But they hadn't really. Not yet, at least. A small apartment, a shitty job. No one who really knew he was even there. There were bodies all around him everywhere, but he constantly found himself wondering where all the real people had gone. No one seemed to look him in the eye or even want to know his name.
And so came the books. He had enjoyed them as a child, but now, he thrived on them. They were his friends, companions, and conversationalists. The most loyal he had found since leaving the family that he loved so much. They transported him to different times, different places, different worlds. And sometimes, through them, he even became a different person, surrounded by different people. People that he could know intimately and thoroughly in a way that reality could never offer.
He looked up. The sun had disappeared behind the buildings. All that remained were the last traces of its rays- as if they clung to the sky to remind it to hold out hope that the sun would indeed rise again.
The same hope he clung to now.
The sun would indeed rise again.