Domenico

Domenico’s fingers tapped against the covers. He couldn’t take this kind of stagnation in his life. He watched a fat fly thrash around their small room, its black body hitting the walls over and over, like a sleepwalker on speed. Every time it flew anywhere near the wide open window, Domenico rose slightly, secretly hoping for it to finally hit its goal and leave. It was like watching your local team fail over and over again. You knew they were shit, but you still crossed your fingers for them. Well, Domenico had the Fat Fly, and he was torn by whether he wanted it to leave and stop making those dreadful sounds or stay and provide him with more quality entertainment.