Rain trickled down the top of his fedora, making a continuous stream around and down his face. He pushed through the dark of night, as if swimming through the shadows. The pier held a certain significance about it. Philly just wasn't the same without it. And Joe Adonis felt that same way about the bit of cardboard he had tucked under his jacket.

Lively steps were needed, as one hand continued to hold the hat on from being completely toppled off of his crown and lost into a pulsing Delaware stream. The night was in some ways mirroring his inner experience. He had a heavy heart, as if it were weeping, as he made his way from his Dockside Inn residence and into the open space.

His feet kicked up water as it both trampled through small puddles and flung up the gathering density at the lower part of his attire. Finally, he made it to where he was frantically moving, and as the sound of thunder groaned above.

A flash of lightning illuminated the sky. It crackled moments later, the sound of clouds crashing together filling the air. The flash startled Joe, who quickly turned his head to look over at the bank beyond Philadelphia. He then swiftly pulled his jacket over the back of his head and stepped forward, into the downward continuous light of the lamp post just outside the entrance of the quaint bed and breakfast.

The place had been hit hard by the storm. Electricity had gone out on account of the ferocious offering the God's were giving the residents. A reminder that they were all powerful. Or, just a little fun, maybe. To pass the time, as time didn't seem to stop on their account. They threw a few more bolts and crackles as Joe peeled the paper out from under his shirt.

It was tucked in tight. Into his waistline. And as he had settled in with a glass of whisky to finally read what the postcard had scribbled on it, that's when the lights went out in his homely palace. He felt like a king, whether there or not, but the space he'd made his own was all he needed to lay his usually slicked back head of hair.

With a makeshift umbrella over his head, Joe angled the jacket so the light of the lamp could shine onto the small piece of cardboard. He'd waited a long time to read this. Maybe even a lifetime, depending on how you looked at it. A memory not yet unleashed. A gift, unopened. A parting message, never received.

He'd spent three-hundred and thirty chalk strikes in his prison cell before it arrived. He'd spend a full three-hundred more without ever reading it. He was never even tempted to. He knew to a degree what it would say. She left him. At his greatest time in need. Maybe he shouldn't have proposed and professed his undying love to her from behind the cold bars of his new home. But he loved her. And she walked away from him that day, forever, leaving his heart in tatters.

Now here he was. After the most significant event in the world he now knew. Ready to finally read it. The rain barreling down. The sky alight with Zeus' screeches and immutable illumined prowess. He was where he wanted to be. Joe had arrived. Found his true calling. He could die happy with Purgatory, and would likely enter that state before heading further south.

Joe felt the cold on his ears and face, yet the tingle down his spine was more prominent. His eyes widened as he made out the words that began to jump off the postcard, and that were written almost three years prior...

I can't do this. You can't wait on me. And I can't wait on you. Life continues, no matter what shackles keep us bound. You fucked up. We, fucked up. And we can never go back. But, I love you. I always will. You will find it again. But you can't have that around you. Not now. Not with what you need to do. You need to be cold. You can't have me as a distraction. You need to bury your love deep inside. It will blind you, otherwise. Make you weak, Joe. And you ain't weak. I'm not what you need. You need the devil in you. As that's what will help you through this. I'm sorry, Joe. Maybe in another life. I'll always love you. Red.

It wasn't unexpected. He knew why she did it, deep down. She wanted him to be strong. And her love kept him open to a part of himself that just wasn't what he needed. Not whilst doing a prison term. And beyond that, needing to rectify the mistake a former colleague made by putting him there. He'd since forgotten about that. The former partner, doing him in. But as a sense of relief washed over him, and a wet smile joined the mixture of tears and rain streaming down his face, it was time to remember.

Joe Adonis tucked away the postcard, back into his pants. He let the jacket go and drop back to its usual dangle. It shaped his figure well. Tailors were one of a kind in this life, and he enjoyed their work nearly as much as he was now enjoying the downpour. He raised his arms in the air and slowly spun about as the water kept bucketing down.

He didn't care. He'd made it. And yet, the journey had just begun. But he was free again. No longer as cold. As ruthless. His iron heart, not as ironclad. Maybe it was a girl. A women. Maybe all of them. And maybe, and more likely, it was because he knew what was coming next. And as they said, vengeance was a dish best served cold. But God's willing, he'd light that plate on fire and enjoy every last taste of it. Because where he was going, it was definitely dark. And hell, was oh so hot.

Florence was mainly a fond memory she had, she hadn’t thought about it much because it opened wounds she still wasn’t ready to open, but that little italian town returned from the dark place in her mind that she had hidden it and was now tormenting her thoughts. She remembered Joe.

Lola could not pinpoint the moment where she had met him because she didn’t remember life without Joe. The first memory she had of him was at a business gathering of her father’s back in Philly. She was probably nine or ten years old and Joe was a few years older than her. He could sit at the adults table but he decided to spend time with her. This was around the time she was starting to learn how to play the piano, Lo was absolutely terrible but he insisted on saying it was the best thing he had ever heard. She had cherished that moment forever.

Year after year they would meet at least once. He saw her grow up into a woman in front of his eyes and she knew the exact same moment he stopped being Joe and started to be Adonis. She could tell the interests shift when it came to him, it had bothered her but she never said a word because he wasn’t her’s. Until the summer she turned 17 and she spent the summer in Philly with her little brother Francis at her aunt and uncle’s house. Joe took her out for ice cream every single day because he knew how much she loved vanilla. One day, going home from the pier, he stopped her and kissed her. In that moment he wasn’t Joe Adonis, he was just Joe, her Joe. Lo had a crush on him since she was a child and didn’t know what that meant. She used to believe his glacier eyes were ice cold, that they knew no warmth and never shared loved. That's what she used to believe. Now Lola knew, the hottest fires always burn blue. She knew right there that he loved her and she loved him. That was the happiest summer of her life.

And then there was Tom Heyes. In a way he had always been part of her house but only recently he was making a effort to be seen, to make her notice him. She knew her father approved and she did want to make her father happy. He made her feel things, but not the same things Joe did - that was one of the secrets she kept. The other was the letter she got in the mail from Joe a few months shy from her 20th birthday. Lola remembered the happy tears she shed while reading the sweet words he had written her. They haven’t seen each other for a few years - two to be exact. She missed him dearly and she wrote him daily. He never responded.

When Lo finished reading the letter she made sure to reply right away. She ended up with a ‘yes’ to answer the question Joe had made her about marriage. Inside the envelope was also a little wrapping. Inside was a ring: modest but lovable, exactly what she had dreamed about. She decided to put it around the gold chain she always wore and tuck it below her flowy blouse. Lola had no idea that Tom was going to propose that day. She had no idea she was going to say yes. But she knew her father wanted this and she wasn’t one to disappoint her father, so she did - and that was another secret she never shared.

The letter she wrote to Adonis was filled with love. So much so that once Tom found it he struck her. That was the first the first time he struck her. He apologized immediately, promising he would never do that again, that he loved her dearly but he was blinded with jealousy because of the letter he found. And she believed him - that was her first regret.

So a few days later when she found out he was cheating on her, he struck her again and she mustered all her will and might to leave the situation. This wasn’t really what she wanted. Lo felt cheated out of her happiness because she wanted to make everyone else around her happy.

So she left for Florence. She sent the first letter she wrote before she left but Lo never got an answer back. One day, under the Tuscan sun she remembered the kiss she had shared with Joe once upon a time, how they relationship blossomed and how empty she felt. She also remembered how much those assaults from Tom had hurt, so as she strolled through the cobbled streets, Lo bought a postcard with a panorama from Florence and started writing. She signed it Red, like he used to call her. And that was her second regret.

Lola hasn’t thought about all of this in a long while but today as she was closing her book shop and was making her way back home, she saw him on the other side of the street. He had not seen her, she thought. It was a quick glance, but Joe was Joe. Still her Joe. She knew him better than he knew himself.

As she got home, it started to rain. A storm was setting in and Lo found that fitting because of what was happening on her insides. They were riled. She was sure he would never want to see her again because if he did he would, at least, reply to the letter and postcard she sent two years ago. Maybe he could understand then, if he read them, that she did not feel worthy of him, that she felt she couldn’t be loved so she just ended up letting go of one of the best things that had ever happened to her. She took off her pea coat and, while she looked at herself in the floor length mirror that sat in her lobby a simple gold chain with a delicate diamond ring sat on her neck. Lola has worn it every day since Adonis proposed. And that was her final secret.