She had used me for what she needed and I was entirely in agreement with her demands.Francesca had told me of her parent’s farm which was just outside of Trieste on the Italian side of the border. We had discussed the option of leaving together to the farm from Marseilles on several occasions and the fact that she was suddenly seen as a possible mistress for some Gestapo types made up her mind to get out of the city as soon as possible. It married up with my need to relocate sooner rather than later because it only took some citizen with a need for ready cash to denounce me to the Gestapo on some cooked-up frame about being a spy. I admit I had done some shady things but it fell far short of spying as I did not want to do something that would undermine the already optimal outcomes I knew would happen in the very near future.With over a half million men, thousands of superior German tanks and a logistical chain that drained one-third of the Fatherland’s resources, the huge invasion. I’m brown and chubby, and not exactly light-footed. Sneaking around doesn’t come easy to me. I pick up the paper, and tell myself I’ll leave the superintendent the check for this month’s rent. He’s a nice guy. The only asshole in this building is Lenny. Everyone else is nice, including me. I look at the plain brown box marked United States Postal Service. UPS. I smile and rip it open. I’ve finally received a copy of the book I’ve been writing. It’s about the life of a bisexual Black man from a conservative community living in North America. His family, his friends and his ups and downs. I’ve written the book a year ago and have sought a publisher for ages. I finally landed a deal with this print-on-demand publisher. It looks nice. Glossy cover. Cool. I smile, and read the note. It tells me that the book will be available for sale on Amazon.com in a few months. Nice! Man, this just about makes my day. I go to the kitchen and prepare breakfast slash lunch. A box of ready-made rice with.
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