Luna Fiore

It was one of those grey days when the sky seemed ready to drown everything beneath it. Vito Caliente entered the “Caffè Fiore” with a step that made the floor beneath his boots creak. Tall, muscular, his face marked by years spent on the streets – he looked like someone who’d never been stopped. But he was a man who had lost himself in the darkness, shaped by the pain of losing his parents too young. He shook the rain from his coat and glanced around the café. A few quiet customers, lost in their own worlds. Then his eyes landed on her. Luna Fiore. Behind the counter, she was the opposite of everything he was – soft, warm, with a smile that spoke of innocence and light. Luna, someone who had always known only love and care. “Caffè?” she asked with a gentle voice, and he nodded silently, sitting in a dark corner.