Manhattan, New York

Boxes, just boxes of paperwork. It had taken a while, however Christian had finally tracked down his fathers old HQ. The new owner was happy to allow Gato to rummage around the cellar, pulling out the possessions of his family over the last couple of generations. 

This one had some postage marks on it. California, LA.

Cutting through the tape and tearing back the wrapper, he found a box of letters. They were old, bundled and marked with inky fingerprints. The header was from the office of Louis Gato, his grandfather. What chapters of his family would the letters hold? The first one found his gaze.

Genco,

I cannot say I agree with your decision. You must not simply run away from our problems. It was always beyond my desires to return to Sicily after our first meeting, how could I? Fate will rarely offer such opportunity, such passion and fulfillment. 

Sleepless nights have plagued me in your absence. This country is alien to me, however I find comfort in the black of night, as the stars are all the same. Under a blanket of obsidian, I used to lay in my fathers orchard and count them through the drifting branches of the olive trees. Sleepless nights however do nothing for my waking life. I have found work in the city, Bella Vista to be exact, working under the watch of a lady known as "Black" Betty. The pay is sufficient to keep me in good health, however restricts me from settling out west with yourself. That and your stubborn refusal to accept our relationship.

There is no shame in our relations, Genco, only that which is conjured by your own perceptions.

I hope to hear from you soon, I feel a darkened void without you, one that is removed of the comforting sparkle I find in the stars above.

Sincerely,

LG