Excerpt from a story I am working on ....The same story from October....
I'm new to Milan. I'm lost. The driving rain has its own rhythm and it loses me. I can't keep up.
Left or right; it doesn't matter. I'm so lost that all the streets look the same and I'm starting to panic. Panic about what? I'm not sure, but I can feel it starting. It starts like losing a pop fly in the sun, like falling and not being able to stop. The song on the radio throws my driving off too; so I turn it off. It's just me and the driving-off-rhythm rain. Driving me further into Milan and loss.
God damn it, I'm a grown man. I'm ashamed. Grown men shouldn't get lost, grown men shouldn't fail. I've done both and it feels like I'll never catch my breath again.
It's Milan and I'm getting smaller and smaller; small enough to wash down a drain somewhere.