1 Chapter
I have never been superstitious but I have always believed in black tales. When Romeo left because of cancer on November 2nd, I hoped to leave the world with him and my husband. Being a world famous writer does not mean that you have to resist every inconvenience, every crush that life puts in front of you. I didn't even want to be a writer. I hated reading my mother's Harmony, but I was fascinated by Stephen King's narrative technique. I was fascinated by it as if anything could really happen to me ... as if Misery could seriously come and get me and when I went to get Romeo from the kennel, I didn't know whether to call him that or Cujo. King sent me peaceful pain. Every time I threw the papers from the desk to the garbage can I had that languor in the heart of those who can dedicate themselves to several things at the same time thanks to his genius and his mentor. My husband took my luck to heart: he gave me a notebook on which to write down my first writings, drafts of things that I would later publish but in the meantime I ran into my own rebellious soul. I was lonely, and before I met Thomas I was the classic heartless bitch, or maybe I had placed him in a glass case without even realizing it. Romeo treated me as a clear sky does. And the loss of a very sweet animal breaks your heart. It divides it into a thousand pieces, a hundred and a thousand others. I really would have died if it hadn't been for Thomas.
