The following afternoon Anna called Gian and demanded he get his stuff out of her apartment. Pronto. She didn’t want to stumble on his mother’s pasta maker or his books or his hockey socks. All memories of better times. It was bad enough that morning when she pulled out a plastic garbage bag. One of the many he used to tie up into little knots. To save space.
Poor Gian. He didn’t have a chance to pick up his phone before it went to voice mail and Anna let into him via technology. He called her back a few minutes later. He’d arrange to have his sister pick up his things.
After the arrangements had been made Anna slammed the phone down and called Tina.
