At the moment, I had only seen Turin's train station, and that was enough for me.

The only way I had to describe it's that it was B I G.

And it wasn't the kind of big of an endless field or a night sky that makes you feel the sense of the universe's infinity. No. This was big in the sense that the roof was incredibly high, and every little shuffle of a shoe travelled up to the ceiling, bounced, fattened on the way back, and shattered my eardrums.

I clung to my backpack, where I had naively placed my Bulbasaur. I knew I would need two free hands to manage my suitcase and my backpack in that inferno, but at that moment, in the midst of the platform full of bleating humans, I just wished I had something to hold close to my chest so that I could stroke its inanimate little head.

"Gioele? Shall we go?" Nicola turned to look at me, noticing I hadn't moved yet. He had no problem navigating through the bleating humans. He held his backpack with the strap over one shoulder and was ready to drag his black suitcase through the crowd of the damned in front of the shores of the Acheron.

"Let's go, let's go." I grabbed his jacket from behind and clung to it as if I were a blind person on the first walk with his new guide dog. Nicola gave me a look that, at the very least, must have been perplexed, at most, annoyed.

I couldn't figure out if it was one or the other, but in any case, we started moving.

"Did you know that Labradors are gradually replacing German Shepherds as the best guide dogs?" I chuckled, looking at my white Nike shoes moving one in front of the other. "German Shepherds are too smart. If they know you need to go from point A to point B, they won't waste time taking you through point C because they know that the fastest way between two points is always a straight line. The problem is that sometimes you have to go through point C to avoid being run over by buses, but a German Shepherd doesn't take that into consideration."

"Ah-ha..." Nicola lifted his suitcase and stopped before descending the subway stairs. I released my grip on his jacket and lifted my trolley too.

We proceeded step by step, in a single line. There was someone behind me complaining because I was too slow.

I shrugged as if my shoulders were a protective wall to hide my ears in.

"Okay." Nicola sighed once we reached the underpass. He waited for me to descend the last step. There was still quite a bit of noise there, but it was contained between the low walls of the underground passage, I could bear it.

"Labradors, on the other hand, don't act on their own. I mean, probably, they too understand that they'd better follow the hypotenuse of a triangle instead of travelling two catheti, but they are obedient dogs, easier to train."

Nicola said nothing. Maybe he was nodding, but I wasn't looking at him, so I didn't know. I was looking at the floor tiles and trying to avoid the lines, but still walking with one foot in front of the other.

Every time I stepped on a line, my brain triggered the cheerful surgeon's buzz of that old toy called Operation. For now, I was doing a decent job not killing my patient under the bistoury.

Being so focused on winning Operation, the tip of my left foot hit a step I hadn't anticipated, and I flew forward, ready to smash my teeth on the concrete.

"Whoa! Whoa!" Nicola grabbed me by the sweatshirt and put me back on my feet. "Everything okay?" He looked at me with wide eyes. He seemed more panicked than necessary, as if he had just seen me risk death.

"Relax, I fall at least three times a day," I chuckled. "Look." And I showed him my chipped incisor, which was also my favorite incisor because it was like that typical shady and scarred character who you know has seen a lot and no longer trusts humanity but, at the end of the story, redeems himself and believes in the power of love again.

Nicola was looking into my mouth where I was pointing, but it seemed like he wasn't following the thread of my thoughts.

"I landed on the edge of the bathtub two years ago. And this..." I rolled up the sleeve of the sweatshirt to the elbow. "This I got by falling in the hallway. I tripped over my feet and scraped my elbow on the wall. Horrible pain."

"Uh-huh." Nicola took me by the shoulders, and for a moment, I thought he wanted to hug me. Instead, he gently moved me a step to the left, and a river of people started pouring up the stairs from the gap I had just cleared. With a few seconds of delay, my brain informed me that there were people who needed to pass.

"Should we take the escalator?" Nicola gestured at our large suitcases.

Hmm, I thought.

"Hmm," I said aloud, but forgetting to explain what it meant, so my companion took it as agreement.

It's not that I'm afraid of escalators. It's just that it takes a certain skill to get on at the right moment. And with the suitcase, too?

I approached with some apprehension. There were people all around, and Nicola was already stepping onto the first step without hesitation.

Okay. I took another step and carefully watched the steps moving. I could place the suitcase first and then step onto the next step. All right. I lifted the trolley and let it hang until I was sure I could catch the right moment when the step appeared. And off we go. The suitcase went up. I grabbed the handrail moving forward beneath my palms.

"Can you pick up the pace?"

I shrugged and ignored that voice. I raised a foot. One, two... I put it down with momentum, but as soon as the step started to rise and get higher, my head exploded with the beep of Operation because I wasn't exactly at the center of the step. And I had put one foot only. And it was moving away. My suitcase was three steps higher.

I went back to the safety of the floor, which immediately became less secure when the guy who had complained earlier pushed me aside, making me fall. I don't think he realized he had sent me flying on the ground, cause he continued without turning back, followed by a dozen hurried people.

I stood up and hugged my backpack. "Mmmmhh." I grumbled softly, knowing that no one would hear me in that chaos.

I looked up at the top of the escalator and saw Nicola looking at me with an anxious expression. Fortunately, he didn't stare at me for too long because he had reached the end and he needed to focus on stepping down. Once he unloaded his suitcase and himself, he also waited for my trolley and put it in a safe place, which made me feel a bit more relaxed. Then he waited for the guy who had pushed me and stood in front of him. I couldn't hear what they were saying, but the hasty guy didn't tolerate the confrontation for long: he raised a hand in the universal gesture of "go to hell" and disappeared beyond my view.

I slipped into the crowd and returned to the familiar old stairs that remained steadfast in their place.

Nicola immediately handed me the trolley as soon as I reached him. "What was that guy's problem?" And he was very nice to think that he had problems, not me.

We left the station, which was obscenely too spacious, and found ourselves in front of a busy street, beyond which stretched a park with a sad appearance.

I raised my nose to the sun and discovered that it wasn't there. The sun, I mean. The sky was all a shapeless grayness, with not even a hint of blue.

"Mhh, it's not great here." I whined, looking around.

"The metro is cool." Nicola replied. "It's all automated. There are no drivers on board."

"Oooh." And that, indeed, was the best part of our journey to the Barone.

The metro arrived on the track, sliding into the underground tunnel, elegant and precise like a syringe.

We found a place at the very end, where I could watch the tracks be devoured by the wheels that glided away. It was even better than the wheels of parallel cars.

"It's beautiful." I found something positive in that whole experience. Even if I spent that month being mistreated, at least I would forever cherish the knowledge that watching the tracks of Turin's metro glide away was a magical hypnotic spell. I even made a video with my phone so that I could watch it again later.

We descended from that futuristic marvel only to re-emerge under the light of a nonexistent sky. We dragged our suitcases in silence.

"Hey, Nicola?"

He looked up from the map open on his phone. He was waiting for me to continue with whatever I had to say. The thing is, I hadn't planned my strategy so far in advance.

"Are you sure this is the right way?"

He looked at the screen again, then straightened up. "It's that one." He pointed to a large building across the street.

"Ew." I commented with utmost honesty. "Is that the Dinastia del Piemonte? It looks like the building where my grandmother lives."

"It was built in the thirties. It's fascist architecture. Works of the rationalist movement all look alike."

I blinked, storing that information. "How do you know that?"

"My father talks about these things all the time. When he left Iran, he had almost obtained an architecture degree. But here, he works as a truck driver. He couldn't get his exams validated."

"Ah." I felt like a detective now that I had finally found out where his parents were from. Of course, it didn't change much. All I knew about Iran was that it was in that undefined space full of things, between China and Turkey, but below Russia.

"Are you ready?" Nicola smiled, and his ears took flight.

"For wh..."

I saw him charge towards the hotel's door, with its highly polished glass and warm lights illuminating the inside.

"Wait!" I ran after him, making my trolley wheels groan. "Are you sure we have to enter through the main door? And who do we have to talk to? And what should we say?"

"I don't know, let's see."

Let's see? What the heck did that mean? I hadn't even prepared my mental introduction speech.

Nicola pushed the door from the handle that seemed to weigh as much as the entire glass.

The marble floor was so shiny that I could see myself in it. Not like a figure of speech, like... literally. I stuck out my tongue and I saw it appearing in my trapped reflection.

"Gioele?"

My head snapped up, and a sound of pain escaped me for accidentally biting myself.

Nicola blinked with a worried look. He would soon get used to the frequency with which I hurt myself.

"Evewything okay."

"Good morning, can I help you?"

Nicola turned to the man behind the check-in counter with total naturalness. "We're the new kitchen interns, we come from Don Milani, Cookery School."

"Oh." The receptionist lost his fake welcoming smile. "Sit over there; someone will come to get you."

Over there there were a series of extra-comfortable armchairs that looked extra comfortable.

Maybe there would be some positive side to working in a luxury place. Perhaps they would give us a room with a four-poster bed.

We managed to rest our weary bodies for half an hour before a lady dressed in a suit approached us.

"Are you the kitchen interns?" She waited for a nod before darting towards the elevators, telling us to hurry, she was very busy.

Well, good morning to her too.

We followed her to the second floor, where we crossed a corridor adorned with elegant paintings. Then through an emergency door that led us to another elevator. More of a goods lift, to be honest.

We were in the staff area, and I must admit that it was quite exciting. The doors opened on the third floor where a chaos of waiters and receptionists bustled between warehouses and offices.

"This way. Quick."

We followed her down the corridor, and then through another fire door, all while dragging our huge suitcases.

The woman took a magnetic key card from her pocket and stopped in front of the last door in that cramped nook.

The light next to the handle turned green, and the lady lowered it to let us peek inside. She didn't give us enough time to take more than one look at what would be our room for the next thirty days of our lives.

"These are your keys. If you lose them, you pay for them. You must return them at the end of the internship at the reception. The bathroom is down there; it is shared with other interns. I shouldn't need to tell you that we won't come to clean your room, but due to unpleasant past events, I feel obliged to specify. We can carry out inspections in your room at any time; the order and cleanliness you maintain will reflect on your final evaluation. Smoking cigarettes is prohibited, and obviously, smoking anything else is also prohibited. The staff canteen is in the basement; you will get there with the staff elevator, which is activated with the magnetic key. Your work shift starts at seven thirty. If you want dinner, show up at seven already in your uniform. Any questions?"

I was still stunned by the number of words that had come out of her mouth. I had to wait for my brain to extract meaning from them. Only then, perhaps, would I have the wit to formulate questions.

Nicola smiled a smile full of excitement. "No, everything is clear."

The woman was satisfied with that answer. She wished us a pleasant stay and then disappeared, leaving us in front of that white-painted metal door and a couple of magnetic keys.