Terminus of piazzale Clodio, midnight on the dot: I start the last tour with my bus.
It is not cold, but the cloudy sky threatens water in puddles.
I hope I don’t have any complications with that group of boys who go up to the first stop, four or five, overly cheerful, certainly with their guts drowned in beer.
I’m afraid they are the ones who are terrorizing the whole city with mugging and rape.
On the bus, however, they seem to calm down and even doze off.
Halfway…
