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Lucky - Chapter 4Remiula lay down on Alexis' bed with her arms behind her head, looking up at the white ceiling. She sighed quietly to herself and closed her eyes. Her body was relatively straight and her legs hung over the edge of Alexis' bed, her chest slowly moved in and out as she took deep, relaxing breaths.
"I'm back!" Alexis suddenly shouted joyfully as she came into her bedroom, carrying two drinks. "Sorry I took so long. My mom was talking to me about my birthday" She smiled, placing the drinks on the table. "Miss me?" She asked, giggling.
Remiula quickly jumped up. "Uh.." She said, slightly blushing. "No.. I mean. Yeah! Of course. I mean.. um.."
Alexis let out a cute, small laugh. "It's fine, Remi. I was just teasing you." She teased, sticking her tongue out.
Remiula laughed. "so..."
"What did your mom say about your birthday? Am I allowed over? Who else is coming?" Remiula eagerly asked, picking up a drink and taking a big sip.
"Oh!" She laughed. "She said I can have a sleep over, I am
Lucky - Chapter 3The two girls walked in silence to a bench they always sat at during lunch. Alexis sat down on the bench and looked at Remiula. "So..." She cleared her throat. "Would you like to come to my house after school? My mom's making pizza."
Remiula giggled and replied, "Of course! I'd love to. Your mom makes the best pizza." She smiled and then sat down beside Alexis. "I'll have to text my mom and ask her first though." She took her phone out of her pocket.
"Sure. That's fine." Alexis' face turned bright red, so she quickly got her bag and took out some sandwiches to cover her rosy cheeks.
As Remiula was texting her mom, the bell rang. Class was about to start. So Remiula quickly linked her arm around Alexis', yanking her off the bench and begun to walk to their next class. An oblivious Alexis said "Where are we going?"
"Uh, the bell rang, Alexis. It's time for art class." Replied Remiula. "Silly!" She chuckled.
They walked in silence for a little while.
"Hey, Remi?" Started Alexis.
Volpi.You will find that the story you tell
is very rarely your own. In Lucca,
even the smallest pebbles
breathe in the warm sunlight.
Knotted stones and cobbled roads
beat out a paper-dry heartbeat heat
my city breathes in and out,
inhales sparrow air.
It's writing a story.
You are the pen.
You will find that in Lucca
the daisy chains forge fire
in side streets and back alleys.
Teenagers intertwine. Tell me,
odd flower, are you still closed?
Here we are colored wax;
the heat of the city melts us.
We run into each other, rhapsody
of pigments. Operas are our specialties.
Open up; feel the reds.
If not, try and see them. There is a place
of deep knife marks, a street
long as midnight
you may learn something there.
Valentina's voice glimmers like red wine.
You may enjoy intoxications. Still,
know alcohol has no story
and will swallow your own.
Find the sign with the wolf on it.
You'll know the place. Epiphanies ring true as church-bells.
Lucca still guides the wanderers
to well sp
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