It's just a shot away

It takes an hour or so to walk from her apartment to the less crowded parts of the city. A little longer in heels. The wine tastes better there, Stephanie charms the waiters at bars and restaurants and they bring us more Martini Rosso on the rocks in branded highball glasses. We stumble home on our bare feet, just before sunrise, shoes in our hands and cigarette smoke deep infused in our light spring dresses.

Her father is staying over Easter, he knows better than to ask questions. If he's ever seen her with a man it's not the ones she smuggles out before he delivers our breakfast in the morning. Maybe he knows but prefers to think of her as innocent and pure, the way she always was when we were growing up in Silver Lake.

Everything and nothing has changed since then. I'm afraid of what I would find if I ever went back, afraid of what I might remember. Rome was built in a thousand years and it fell apart with a single heartbeat.