The Don's Unsent Letters
I hung up the call.
Then, I stood up and gently tiptoed on the carpet barefoot, not making a single sound. I found my old canvas bag.
It was the last gift that my parents ever gave to me. I stuffed a few changes of underwear in it, a faded photo of my parents, and the linguistics certificate that had gathered dust for years.
That was the sum of the entire 20 years of life.
When I passed by the nightstand, I saw Lorenzo's pistol. He had once taught me how to use it, how to switch off the safety and how to aim steady.