Trafika Europe 14 - Italian Piazza

Nicola Lagioia

But Orazio hadn’t stopped thinking about the girl. It was early May, his hospital stay was coming to an end. One after the other, they’d unhooked his tubes and lightened his dose of pharmaceuticals. They’d given him a pair of crutches. After his conversation with the head physician, it had become clear to him that it had been no dream. From a simple ghost, he had transformed the girl into the cause of the accident. Only that meant he’d now placed her in a service role that likewise stripped her of significance. She became the cause of the crash just as a tree or an oil patch might have been, as if tree and oil patch were logical transitions capable of leading to the word “amputation.” Every now and then, curses echoed through the hall. That ’s when they called for the orthopedic surgeon. It wasn’t just the fact that he mentally perceived the presence of his leg. He caught himself actually moving the toes of his right foot, he felt an itch on his right ankle, and pain—piercing stabs between his kneecap and shinbone, or on the knee that was no longer there. He clenched his teeth and broke out in a cold sweat.

Then, one night, he tracked the girl down once and for all.

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