A piece of sky 

- Did you bring the stuff I asked for?- he asked without saying hello.

- Of course!- she replied.

She was wearing a blue dressthat seemed to be covered with a thin layer of dark dust.

- Hurry up- he whispered while she entered.

She had never been in that hotel: chip; invisible; tortured by the constant noise of the water in the pipelines. It was certainlyunusual that a “character” like him stayed there: he was, after all, the so called “reincarnation of Joe Strummer”. The one who started winning a gold record; in case today still means something. One more destined to save rock’n’roll in this such impure era.

On the sofa in the back of the room, covered by a rust-colored sheet, it was possible to notice some silver splinters.

It was like looking at a little July sky in the late afternoon, but yet full of stars: the illustration of a reality impossible for nature.

She went over to discover what they were.

- They are pieces of DVD- he explained. - The restored E.T version, with new special effects more realistic…

He had already seen that film before, on VHS,  with her. But he pretended to have forgotten this. If you bring to the surface some memories they can drag you to the bottom; and he knew that.

- It was ruined. It stopped every time that the child's bike was about to fly- he grumped, while he was gathering the pieces of plastic from the sofa and let them fall on a coffee table. - So I flipped out and I had broken it into pieces. Anyway in this modern version E.T. seems a pile of jelly...

When the sofa was empty, she sat down, putting near to her a plastic bag.

From the outside the incessant noise of the motorcycles that were speeding at sundown covering the noise of the cars in the street. To him, after all, that noise appeared normal: it was the same that he was hearing every time that he came on the stage. During a concert in Bristol, he even thought that the sound he was hearing was the call of a firefly’s swarm ready to attack him, but actually what he saw were just the glowing screens of the phones in the audience, that took pictures all the time.- What a racket…- she complained, covering her ears and furrowing her brows that matched the color of her hair: she had left the honey blonde dye for the dirty blonde.

- You’re going to be crazy staying here.

He smiled, pulled up his pajama pants and sat down next to her.

- Did you forget my job?- asked -the noise makes my live.

He started to look inside the bag, waving his hands slowly as an old man.

- One of that web sites wrote that you are dead for a drug overdose- she said, with her eyes fixed on his hands that, since the last time they met, seemed to have become bony.

Suddenly they stopped moving.

His gaze was concentrated in a blank point on the wall, where there was the ring of a painting turned up somewhere.

- People still like to hear the anecdote of the self-destruction of a rock star?- she asked clearing her throat.Lowered again his eyes. And the expression on his face suddenly cheered up. He took out of the bag a bottle of milk flavored with vanilla. Drank with the same enthusiasm of those who don’t see water for many days.She saw a drop in the corner of his mouth.

For this reason she raised gently her hand, moving a lock of sweaty hair away, caressed his forehead; in the same way that she caressed him, a long time ago, to make sure he hadn’t fever.

That gesture quenched his thirst. Now he was enjoying the milk,  hoping that would never hands.

He just wanted to say: “Thank you mum”, but he didn’t. He just keep drinking, remember that he can’t trust anyone.

Finally he put distractedly the bottle on the coffee table on the left, where there still were the splinters of that film. Maybe accidentally, he hit the bottle with the hand and it dropped.

Immediately the coffee table was covered by the lukewarm and pearly liquid that, as he wished, wouldn’t end. Suddenly the glowing splinters were plunged. Drawing in a place like so many other, away from everyone, a piece of sky that couldn't exist.