The Chronicles of City Lights and Modern Love

It was one of those nights that I knew I’d never forget. The hall was lit with sparkling chandeliers and crystal brackets on the walls, the ground carpeted in a regal purple. It was a location fit for royalty. The air was warm and the atmosphere was magical; the scene could have been pulled straight out of a dream from when I was young. The only thing missing was my charming prince, but for now, I could play make believe and imagine that he was beginning to show himself in the form of Carmine.

Despite the grandeur, there was a constant feeling of impending danger. People say that the eyes are the windows to the soul and each pair of eyes I fixed on with would send another dose of adrenalin into my bloodstream. Each pair of eyes had seen terrible things; that I could tell. These people had seen anarchy at its best – the world at its worst.

Carmine was no different in these respects. I could tell that beneath his façade, he was in turmoil. He would be haunted with terrible images, terrible guilt until his dying days, and for that I pitied him. The smile on his face would suggest to outsiders that he was a joyous youth: happy, content and unburdened. His eyes, however, told me otherwise. I wondered how much he really let on. Did he enjoy his work or did he have no choice but to obey? How many lives had been ruined on his account – or worse…terminated at his hands? I was desperate for answers; desperate for an insight into his thoughts, but I was scared of what he might tell me.

Deciding that it was better not knowing, I kept my mouth shut, closing out all the questions and the terrible images my subconscious had created. For tonight, I could let it be. I could forget where I was and who I was with. Tonight it was just Carmine, the music, the sweet, musky, intoxicating smell of expensive brandy and me.