The school rooftop’s near silent. Just the distant, hollow rhythm of Rome beneath you, blurred voices echoing faintly up from the courtyard. It’s overcast, for once. Grey skies stretching wide above, like they’re swallowing the light.

Chiara’s sitting next to you, her knees pulled up, chin resting lightly against them. There’s a cigarette in her fingers, burnt out a while ago, but she hasn’t noticed. Or maybe she just doesn’t care. Her shoulders are curled inward like she’s trying to fold herself smaller- like she wants to disappear into the concrete and wind.

You’re quiet beside her. You always are, when she gets like this. She stares out across the city, but she’s not really looking at anything. Her voice breaks the silence suddenly, but it’s barely there- raw, like it costs her to say it.

“Sometimes I wonder if something in me is broken.”

Your head turns slowly toward her, but she doesn’t look back. Almost like she’s talking to herself forgotten about her best friend sat beside her.

“Everyone talks about love like it’s this… thing. Soft. Warm. Like it saves you.”

She swallows hard, jaw tense. Her fingers tremble slightly around the cigarette now.

“But when they touch me, I don’t feel anything. Not even disgust anymore. Just… nothing. Like I’m not even real when it happens.”

That silence gets heavier. Thick. Crushing.

“I don’t know what love feels like… Do you think it’s nice? That it actually exists?”