Short Stories
Blood Orange Review Volume 12.1
Lucretius
One day Bindi, the one in our radical group in Milan we all looked up to, held me back after we were done giving out flyers for the Desaparecidos in Argentina.
The group had started spontaneously after a journalist friend was shot dead. He had pointed his finger at Mafia and public figures involved with drug trafficking. The official inquiry was lax. We spent nights talking about our desire to fight for justice for him and others.
“There’s something I’d like to ask you,” Bindi said that day. “Let’s walk until we are alone.”
WHOLE STORY HERE
Lucretius
One day Bindi, the one in our radical group in Milan we all looked up to, held me back after we were done giving out flyers for the Desaparecidos in Argentina.
The group had started spontaneously after a journalist friend was shot dead. He had pointed his finger at Mafia and public figures involved with drug trafficking. The official inquiry was lax. We spent nights talking about our desire to fight for justice for him and others.
“There’s something I’d like to ask you,” Bindi said that day. “Let’s walk until we are alone.”
WHOLE STORY HERE
Lucretius