By Mr Nick
I booked into a Pensione just outside Ravenna. Guests seemed an irritation to the old woman who checked me in. “Yes, you have alarm call,” she agreed after lengthy, semi-lingual negotiation.
I was unsettled that autumn, on the run from my own irresponsible behavior. Yet that night I slept so deeply that I was disorientated when the telephone disturbed me the next morning.
“Your time it has come!” the old woman barked down the line. “Now is your time!”
And it was as if the judgement I’d so long evaded had finally tracked me down.