Chapter 16

           

           DepressionandLonelinesstrackmedownafterabouttendaysinItaly.IamwalkingthroughtheVillaBorgheseoneeveningafterahappydayspentinschool,andthesunissettinggoldoverSt.Peter’sBasilica.Iamfeelingcontentedinthisromanticscene,evenifIamallbymyself,whileeveryoneelseintheparkiseitherfondlingaloverorplayingwithalaughingchild.ButIstoptoleanagainstabalustradeandwatchthesunset,andIgettothinkingalittletoomuch,andthenmythinkingturnstobrooding,andthat’swhentheycatchupwithme.

           TheycomeuponmeallsilentandmenacinglikePinkertonDetectives,andtheyflankme-Depressiononmyleft,Lonelinessonmyright.Theydon’tneedtoshowmetheirbadges.Iknowtheseguysverywell.We’vebeenplayingacat-and-mousegameforyearsnow.ThoughIadmitthatIamsurprisedtomeettheminthiselegantItaliangardenatdusk.Thisisnoplacetheybelong.

           Isaytothem,"Howdidyoufindmehere?WhotoldyouIhadcometoRome?"

           Depression,alwaysthewiseguy,says,"What-you’renothappytoseeus?"

           "Goaway,"Itellhim.

           Loneliness,themoresensitivecop,says,"I’msorry,ma’am.ButImighthavetotailyouthewholetimeyou’retraveling.It’smyassignment."

           "I’dreallyratheryoudidn’t,"Itellhim,andheshrugsalmostapologetically,butonlymovescloser.

           Thentheyfriskme.TheyemptymypocketsofanyjoyIhadbeencarryingthere.Depressionevenconfiscatesmyidentity;buthealwaysdoesthat.ThenLonelinessstartsinterrogatingme,whichIdreadbecauseitalwaysgoesonforhours.

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