“Patricia,” Giancarlo suddenly called before she had gone far, for he had just then noticed something different about her.

She stopped and turned around.

“Did you cut your hair?” he asked.

Patricia cocked her head to one side, mocking his curious expression.

“So, he does have eyes after all,” she huffed. She gave a sigh and shook her head. “Well, at least maybe that means there’s hope for you yet, Giancarlo.”

With that she turned and walked off into the crowd. Sheffield gave a little sigh as he watched her go.

“Now there goes one delightful creature,” he said wistfully. He paused, and eyed Giancarlo for a moment before saying, “She’s in love with you, you must know that. Anyone with eyes can see it.”

“Oh, I’m sure you’re mistaken about that,” said Giancarlo uneasily.

“No, I’m not, my friend, and you know it as well as I,” said Sheffield. “What’s more, I know that you think well of her, too. What puzzles me is why you keep pushing her away. It worries me. What is it that keeps you from letting someone into your life? I’ve known you many years, but I still haven’t been able to discern it. It must be a very heavy anchor you’re carrying around inside you, whatever it is that holds you back.”

Giancarlo shrugged and gave a sigh of his own.

“You know, it’s not for lack of trying, but these things just don’t seem to ever work out for me, Henry,” he said. “People always end up getting hurt. I’m tired of it.What you said is true. I do like Patricia. But things will just end up like they always do, and she’ll get hurt just like the others.”

“You know, Giancarlo,” said Sheffield kindly, “sometimes it hurts someone more to never at least be given the chance.”

Giancarlo made no reply, but instead looked away, his eyes and mind inevitably drawn back across the shimmering bay to just above the horizon, where the full moon was now aglow, hovering there like a distant beacon.

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 5

“Giancarlo!”

Awaking with a start, unsure of just what it was that had suddenly roused him from his sleep, Giancarlo opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling. His vision slowly adjusting to the dimness of the room, he rolled his head to one side and looked over to the window. There a thin band of morning sunlight was slipping through the tiny gap between the drawn curtains, stretching out like a cord to the side of the bed.The angle at which the light fell across the bedroom floor told him that it was well past dawn. The digital alarm clock on the bedside table glowed eight fifteen, confirming his assessment of the hour. He yawned, and stretched his legs beneath the blanket.