But what happened? How did it happen? But to whom? Umberto still did not know, nobody had the courage to tell him by phone. Last night a phone call, his father, laconic: take the first train and go home. Anxiety, tension, terror and tears. Umberto Breathe, breathe. And then down with the train that takes you home in Avola. Then the phone remains silent. And only a day away today I read the news. You're a little 'alone anymore. But a horrible shiver through me. E 'success. In a horrible way. Your brother.
Hello, S. Thomas
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