The station was packed with people, and it was only 8 am in the morning. Lisa’s train was 18 minutes late. How can a train already be late at 8 am? Ladies and gentlemen, ask Italian railways.
Lisa exhaled loudly in frustration, and looked at her luggage, wondering if there was a way for her to sit on it without breaking it and scatter dozens of Christmas presents and dirty clothes all over the floor. No, it would be impossible. That luggage was stuffed as a turkey. And so damn heavy. Continue reading “Always go south – a Christmas short story”