‘Ok, this is getting old.’ Shane whispered back, snickered anyway.   

‘Guys, I have to go for a last run.’ Dana, who was intimately positioned beside Shane, informed them as she retied her shoelaces.

‘Be careful. The sun will set soon.’ The Italian admonished, glanced through the nearest window at the horizon.

‘What, are you kidding? It’s not even four-thirty in the afternoon. I knew that sunset is earlier during winter, but that early?’

‘Yeah, that early. I think that two days ago it was as black as pitch at five.’ Alba agreed as she jumped to her feet and went to the window. ‘It won’t be long. The sky’s already turning orange.’

‘Marina, would you mind if if I ran inside the propriety?’ the tennis player asked, hoping that the sun hadn’t eliminated her sacred workout.

‘No problem, I was going to suggest it.’

‘Bye, hon.’ Shane shouted as Dana trotted to the door.

‘Bye, sweetie.’ Ms. Fairbanks retorted as she went outside and closed the door with a bang.

‘Would you like to see the sunset from a different perspective?’ Marina offered, received nods and smiles.

They went upstairs, steps echoing in the enormous, seemingly empty mansion, until the third floor. This was pretty much like the second one, with a semi-circular room uniting East and West wings, but there were only two huge bedrooms on each wing. The hostess guided her friends to the West side, into a neatly decorated, unoccupied bedroom.

Suddenly, Alba felt a dark, ominous weight in her chest as she paced through the room, into the balcony. She didn’t understand it, was unable to drive it away. It had a mind of its’ own, raked long, filthy claws into her body, refused to let go.

Her breath became shallow, strained, much faster than usual. She thought she was being stiffled, sensed a growing wave of claustrophoby course through her. Had to close her eyes for a moment, focus on the women’s voices, which reached her ears with a tinny, distant quality, so as to regain a hold on her own brain.

She opened her lids, met Jenny’s concerned gaze, smiled at her and tentatively walked outside, where the others admired the landscape.

The scene was indeed breathtaking. The veranda was located in the back of the mansion, facing the pool. Already the sky was being painted in hues of gold and pink as the sun slowly finished its’ daily procession and got ready to hug the horizon. A few clouds hung nearby, watching the spectacle, and were bathed by the last light beams of that day. Trees danced in the wind, branches moving, waving their goodbyes to the dying sun. Leaves turned into deep emerald, flew, fell, floated over the pool, which was so clear that reflected the sky. Far away, tall, rectangular buildings crowded around an imposing, circular dome, pupils around a master. The Duomo Square. A thin line of pollution stood, purplish grey, against the quickly vanishing golden orb.