The waters of the Lambro flowed placidly just beyond the parapet. After the recent rains of the past few days its flow had experienced a sudden increase, so much so that now the river level now reached the safe limit within the channel. There was no more than a ten centimeter difference between the lower edge of the sidewalk and the floodwaters below.

The bench Alessandro was sitting on at the time was adjacent to the boundary wall of a villa, a few meters away from the peeling facade of a historic building.

An elderly woman with an irascible-looking foxhound on a leash walked past him, but because she kept her eyes downward, he hardly noticed.

Although the weather was certainly not the best, at least it was not raining, although in fact it was unlikely that it would be able to cause him any discomfort. He felt too sad to pay attention to such trifles.

First the beating, then the alien probe, the fungus, the previous night's torture, the nightmares, and now Grandma was dead. So much craziness was happening, and in such a short time, that she could hardly believe that it had really happened.

Perhaps even what he was seeing at that moment was a nightmare.

In that case, he would have loved to wake up right away. He could not know whether at the next absurdity his heart would withstand the shock. That was also why he had decided not to go back to the park to dig up the probe. The last thing he wanted after the hellish night he had just had was just to be confronted with something so disturbing and terrible without being psychologically prepared for it.

To be honest, even staying locked in his room was completely unbearable for him. Apart from lounging on the bed pretending to ignore the funereal atmosphere that hovered around the house, there was little he could do anyway. Now running out of alternatives, he had taken advantage of the fact that he was no longer impeded by grief, wandering aimlessly for a while until he found himself strolling the streets of downtown.

It was then that he had decided to make his way down that alley. Even excluding the considerable improvement in terms of scenery compared to a busy street, listening to the sound of water flowing inside the canal seemed to have a decidedly better chance of appeasing his anguish at least in the slightest.

Staring into the void by lying on the mattress did not seem like a great option to him.

A pair of sneakers suddenly entered within his field of vision, and after approaching the bench the owner took a seat on it without making even a sound.

Alessandro did not need to turn his head to know who the newcomer was. The myriad of small clues he had managed to pick up proved more than enough to get confirmation for his own theory.

''You followed me,'' he commented simply.

Alice let out a sigh.

''I don't feel like going to see Vanessa,'' she admitted bitterly. ''But I need to talk to someone about it.''

Alessandro had no difficulty understanding her. Although he found it almost impossible to admit it, he felt exactly the same way.

After the return of the family, it was as if a cloak of lead had descended inside the Olivieri home. No one had dared to raise the subject, and even Umberto seemed to prefer to remain silent and stare into the void beside his wife. One of the most token ways in which he used to vent his grief.

Since it was his mother, Alessandro could only imagine how he would feel if he were in her place, and that thought made him nauseous. Losing a grandmother was something terrible, but the idea of losing Mom was simply inconceivable.

''How on earth did this happen?" asked Alessandro, going straight to the heart of the matter.

Although slightly taken aback by such a direct question, Alice did not shy away from it.

''It was terrible,'' she revealed in a somber tone. ''We were standing there laughing, and at one point she just froze suddenly. The doctors came right away, but it was no use.'' She wrapped her right hand using a scarf flap. ''She died just like that. A sudden heart attack.''

Before speaking further Alessandro allowed himself a short pause, prolonging the silence by just a few seconds compared to what would have been usual under normal conditions.

''I didn't think this could happen,'' he confessed, keeping his eyes fixed on the pavement.

"Neither do I.

Alice let a sob escape, which prompted Alessandro to turn toward her.

''It wasn't...'' He pulled up on his nose as he angrily twisted the flap of his scarf. ''It wasn't fair,'' he concluded in a broken voice. ''He didn't deserve to die like that. With...with her eyes wide open.''

''Please don't tell me,'' blurted out Alessandro looking away. ''I don't want to think about it.''

The touch he felt on the back of his waxed hand managed to convince him to reestablish eye contact with his sister.

Alice stared at him with her eyes filled with tears and her face contracted into an expression of pure affliction. A second after they had met eyes again she threw her arms around his neck and then burst into tears on his shoulder.

Alessandro let her be and even gave her a comforting pat on the back.

A man wrapped in a long wool coat walked past them, turning a quick glance toward them, however, neither of them seemed to notice.

When they parted they both had glazed eyes, and as his sister pulled out her handkerchief Alessandro wiped his on his coat sleeve.

''I wasn't even there,'' he whispered distraughtly. ''I couldn't even say hello to her.''

''It's not your fault,'' Alice heartened him by touching his shoulder. ''In fact, it's better that way. She did not deserve to be seen in that state.''

Alessandro curved his back forward and lowered his gaze to the pavement.

''Was she angry that I wasn't there?" he asked fearfully.

''No, in fact, quite the opposite,'' Alice immediately replied. ''She was just sad because you were sick, but she said she would make you a cake as soon as she was discharged.''

He sighed and shook his head.

''I don't know if he really believed it or was just saying it to make us feel good. I would just have...'' She despondently clutched her scarf. ''Wish we had more time,'' she said in a cracked voice.

''Yeah,'' confirmed Alessandro sadly.

She had just finished blowing her nose on her handkerchief when Alice noticed the patch on her brother's hand.

"What happened to your hand?" he asked gently.

Alessandro let his arm fall back between his legs so as to hide the wound.

''Nothing, I just cut myself,'' he replied evasively.

Alice put her handkerchief back in her pocket and resumed scanning the channel. A few plastic bottles came within her field of vision, floating just above the surface of the water, then disappearing into the distance following the course of the current.

''I have to leave this place,'' he said bitterly. ''It's bad luck.''

''Grandma lived in Verona,'' Alessandro pointed out.

''I wasn't talking about her,'' retorted Alice, emitting a sigh. ''I don't want to stay here. Once I graduate, everything will change.''

''It costs money to move,'' Alessandro reminded her, ''and we have a hundred euros in the account.''

''Then I'll get a job and pay my expenses with that,'' Alice insisted firmly. ''Anything will do, as long as it allows me to escape from this kind of morgue for the living.''

Alessandro clutched his shoulders.

''It's really not all that horrible,'' he murmured in an attempt to downplay. ''I like the river.''

Alice curved her lips into a sad smile.

''You know, I think you hit the nail on the head,'' he said with bitter irony. ''This place is like the river that runs through it. Years go by, but it always stays the same. At most it gets dirtier.''

He shook his head and ran a hand over his forehead.

''Nothing ever happens here.''

''Oh, things happen all right,'' Alessandro objected, nodding sagely.

"What are you talking about?" asked Alice, shooting him a quizzical look.

Cursing himself for thinking aloud, Alessandro hurried to the rescue.

''Nothing,'' he replied, shaking his head. ''You are right.''

Alice peered at him for a few more seconds without uttering a word, and after moving closer to him bridging the few inches that separated them, she rested her head on his shoulder.

''I love you, big brother,'' he confessed in an affectionate tone.

Alessandro continued to keep his eyes fixed on the canal.

"Me too.

When he woke up the next morning Alessandro could not remember if or what he had dreamed, as the sharp jolts with which his mother tried to coax him to open his eyes swept away all memories of what he had seen during his sleep.

Caught up as she was running back and forth around the house, Elisa had quite a bit of trouble explaining herself properly, but from what they could tell Umberto must have forgotten to set his alarm clock, thus ending up getting out of bed over an hour late. And since he was always the first to do so, this had ended up disrupting the entire family's schedule.

Unless they were willing to miss the school bus, they could not afford to waste a single second. There was no time to recover from sleep, wash up, or even eat breakfast. Elisa would probably have pushed them out the door still in their pajamas, if only Alice had not pointed it out to them between yawns.

In any case, their mother's worries eventually proved to be exaggerated, and the bus arrived at the bus stop a full five minutes after they had finished peeling the tangerine touched to them for breakfast.

Having passed the first two hours of Italian without major jolts, Alessandro and Marco agreed that it was not worth going outside to spend the fifteen minutes of recess, and so they stayed inside the wide hallway that occupied the central part of the institute.

Having clarified why he had not received the more than ten messages and the half-dozen calls with which his friend had unsuccessfully tried to contact him (apparently his phone company was among those so generous as to block practically all services if credit was insufficient), Alessandro then briefly told him what had happened the day before, but never mentioned either the probe, much less anything inherent in it.

Even leaving aside the fact that she would never believe him, she did not feel like broaching the subject. At least, not yet.

''I'm sorry,'' Marco told him, as soon as he had finished listening to the brief summary.

''Thank you,'' Alessandro replied, staring at the windswept tree branches outside the window.

''When was the last time you saw her?''

''About a month ago.

''Did you think that...''

Marco did not finish the sentence, although Alessandro certainly did not need to ask him for an explanation to understand what he meant.

''She had had a heart attack,'' she reminded him, shrugging her shoulders, ''it would have been naive not to think so, but she seemed to have recovered. On the phone she spoke normally.''

''My grandfather also died suddenly,'' Marco confessed point-blank. ''One morning he started coughing and never stopped. At least yours had some family members beside him instead of just the caregiver.''

''Yeah,'' confirmed Alessandro mournfully, ''even though I wasn't there.''

''Do you think it was because of the beating those assholes gave you?''

Since admitting the truth would have forced him to reveal the mushroom business, Alessandro decided to go along with that version.

''Yes, I think so.''

A whistle from behind them made them both turn around.

Amidst the confusion that reigned in the hallway they spotted a group of fourth-year students intent on chatting among themselves. The only exception was a girl with long caramel-colored hair and ruddy cheeks, who was at that moment addressing a nod of greeting to Marco.

Caught off guard by Mary's winking expression, the friend waved his hand in response as a grimace vaguely resembling a smile emerged on his lips.

Alessandro raised his eyes to the sky and then turned his gaze back outside the window. For a few more seconds Marco continued to stare at Mary with a dreamy expression on his face, but when he realized that his friend had his back to him he immediately hurried to stand beside him.

''For me, you should tell the professors,'' he proposed with a conviction also dictated by a desire to hide embarrassment.

''Forget it, it wouldn't do any good anyway,'' Alessandro cut it short. ''Tell me rather, how was your weekend?''

''As usual,'' Marco replied, dropping the subject. ''I went to Dad's and we watched the last episode of Cringy.''

Alessandro stopped looking out the window and leaned his back against the wall next to the radiator.

"Was it fun?

Marco seethed.

''Enough,'' he said in a flat tone. ''At least until Mom came to pick me up ten minutes early.''

Feeling like a novice technician the moment he pressed a button, just before reading the words next to it: ''PLEASE DO NOT TOUCH,'' Alessandro slowly turned his head away from the opposite side of the hallway. Judging by the way he stared at her, he seemed to have developed a sudden interest in the half-dead ficus plant relegated to the corner next to the fire extinguisher hanging on the wall.

''Didn't he take it very well?" he asked cautiously after a brief pause.

''They looked like two hyenas while fighting over a bone,'' Marco hissed, twisting his mouth into a grimace of disgust. ''I hate them when they do that.''

''Maybe you should tell them.''

Marco huffed and then leaned back against the radiator, his back to the window.

''I've already tried, it's useless,'' he retorted annoyed, crossing his arms. ''If I do it with Mom she looks at me like I've stabbed her in the back, and Dad almost bursts into tears. I'd rather shut up.''

A vigorous rumbling overpowered the hubbub echoing in the hallway for a few seconds. Widening his eyes in amazement, Marco immediately turned toward his friend. The noise seemed to come from him.

"What was that?

''I didn't have time to eat breakfast this morning,'' Alessandro explained sullenly, ''Dad forgot to set the alarm clock.''

"Shall we get something at the vending machine?" proposed Marco, regaining his usual conciliatory tone.

''I don't have the money,'' Alessandro retorted, staring at the floor.

Marco chuckled.

''It's on me,'' he clarified nonchalantly, as if it were a blatantly obvious implication.

Although Marco had always been generous to him, Alessandro tried to avoid borrowing money from him. He hated being indebted to anyone, even a close friend. However, at that moment he was so hungry that he was even willing to make an exception. He could not take the other two hours until lunch on an empty stomach.

''Thank you,'' he said in a low voice as he put his hands in his pockets.

He had just taken his back off the wall when Matteo, accompanied by the now ubiquitous Giovanni and Andrea, paraded in front of him, his lips curved in a mocking grin.

''Are you all right leprosy face?" he asked with an air of strafing. ''You look terrible.''

Clenching his fists Alessandro made to go after him, but Marco got in the way before he could advance even a step.

''Once wasn't enough for you?" he blurted out in a whisper. ''Forget that asshole.''

''It's her fault that I couldn't visit Grandma,'' he objected bitterly.

This was a blatant stretch, but the mere fact that he had started the chain of events that had brought him to the park two days earlier was, in his eyes, more than enough of a pretext to deserve at least a couple of dicks.

''And will punching him rewind the hands?" urged Marco without moving.

''No,'' conceded Alessandro before flashing a sly smile, ''but it will be beautiful nonetheless.''

''For him for sure,'' Marco hissed harshly. ''If you hit him now without provocation the only one who will be expelled will be you.''

As he stared at the trio walking away down the hallway, Alessandro's eyes narrowed to slits. Sensing what was going through his mind, Marco decided to intervene before he could do anything stupid.

''Did you see the Burj Khalifa video?" he asked point blank, abruptly changing the subject. ''What a story, huh?

As he had hoped, Alessandro looked away from Matteo to focus on him.

"What are you talking about?" he asked puzzled.

''You still don't know?" said Marco surprised. ''But how...ah, yeah. Wait I'll show you.''

She took out her Smartphone and showed him what she was referring to, which was a clip of about a couple of minutes, retrieved from the BBC website. As soon as it started playing, the first image that appeared on the screen was a shot taken via cell phone of the iconic Dubai skyscraper, in which a fire appeared to have broken out on the floors that were about a hundred meters from the top.

Suddenly, the upper part of the structure began to sway dangerously, and after bending almost forty-five degrees, it gave way crashingly, and then plummeted toward the ground seven hundred meters below.

As the video's author's exclamations of bewilderment rang out in the background, accompanying the final part of the clip, Alessandro's mouth opened wide.

''Fuck,'' he commented in shock.

The video ended, and Alessandro resumed looking at his friend.

''Have so many died?

''At first there was talk of about fifty, but now it may already be more,'' Marco replied, putting his cell phone away.

Alessandro gritted his teeth in an expression of pure hatred.

''Bastards,'' he hissed foaming with rage.

''And in the meantime, Garoowe has fallen,'' Marco informed him.

"No!" exclaimed Alessandro in shock.

That sudden cry jolted a couple of first-year boys who were passing by, but with a simple wave of his hand Marco managed to make the anguish disappear from their gazes. That misunderstanding cleared up, he turned back to Alessandro.

''It had been surrounded for almost a month,'' she reminded him patiently, ''everyone knew it was only a matter of time.''

''But I was still hoping for a half miracle,'' Alessandro retorted with the air of someone who had just lost a particularly risky bet.

Marco let out a bitter smile.

''If you rely on miracles we may as well stop reading ANSA.''

Emitting a long sigh, Alessandro let himself fall back against the wall and then crossed his arms in front of his body.

''Nothing ever happens that I want,'' he confessed dejectedly, bowing his head. ''Sometimes I feel like I'm living in a reverse Disney movie. Where the villain always wins.''

''Maybe we should really stop reading these things,'' Marco speculated, settling down next to him.

''I know, but I can't do it.'' He shook his head. ''Damn, I'm worse at this than Dad.''

''Did you also start yelling at the TV?" joked Marco.

''Mine is an inner scream,'' Alessandro replied wryly.

Marco smiled, and pulled the Smartphone out of his pocket again and fiddled with the display until he had reached the site he was looking for. Once he had tilted the phone toward his friend, the cover of the fifteenth volume of Taiyō wa Rōma ni shizumanai appeared in the center of the screen.

At the sight of his favorite manga, Alessandro's eyes lit up.

''The last chapter is out,'' Marco announced to him, entrusting him with the Smartphone in his hands. ''It's forty-six pages, but if you hurry you can finish it in time.''

"And you don't read it?" asked Alessandro confusedly.

''I've already done that,'' Marco explained with a shrug, ''so I can go get you a snack from the vending machine.''

Alessandro squinted a couple of times as his mouth opened wide in amazement.

''Gee, thanks.''

''You're welcome,'' Marco said, patting him on the arm. ''I'll see you after the bell, okay?'' And bidding him a final farewell, he trotted off down the corridor.

Still impressed by such kindness Alessandro lowered his eyes to the Smartphone, and was about to slide his finger across the display, when he heard Marco's voice rising above the commotion.

''Maria, wait a moment.''

Alessandro laughed, shaking his head.

With morning classes over, the rest of the day passed fairly quietly.

Once in the cafeteria, Alessandro devoured his own portion of rigatoni in bianco and lemon chicken breast, hardly speaking for the duration of the meal.

The pasta was sticky and blatantly overcooked, while the chicken breast looked like rubber and tasted like vinegar. Nevertheless, in her judgment each dish was still delicious, and since he didn't want it, she even ate the unripe pear that Marco had for dessert.

The feeling of emptiness in his stomach that he had been dragging around since waking up had not subsided at all after the chocolate and peanut bar given to him by his friend, lingering throughout the morning and even after lunch.

As annoying as it was, however, it was nowhere near as traumatizing as the missed questioning with Ronzini that took place in the afternoon, when he dodged the drawing of lots by one name.

It was about that time that the very strange feeling that had accompanied him for most of the day recurred. Although he had thought about it several times, he just could not get the impression out of his mind that he had forgotten something, yet had no idea what it was.

Any homework to catch up on?

Say something to Marco?

Talk to someone, like a professor?

Asking mom to charge his cell phone?

Yes, that had to do it!

But it was not about that.

Then what was it!

The question continued to nag him all the way home, and probably would have continued to do so for who knows how long, had he not entered the bathroom to change the dressing on his hand. In fact, at that point, as he retrieved the box of band-aids from the cabinet next to the mirror, he accidentally ended up laying his eyes on the toilet seat.

The answer to that nagging question dropped on him like the proverbial light bulb.

When did he not go to the bathroom?

He didn't remember that. In fact he did. It had been the night before, to brush his teeth.

Yes, that's right. He had brushed his teeth...

But that was all he had done! How on earth had he not noticed!

All right, the shock of Grandma's death and all, but something like this should have at least been noticed! Since the previous morning he had never felt the need to use the toilet for any reason whatsoever. And despite nearly two days of abstinence, it really didn't seem like that absurd condition was about to end anytime soon.

The impulse was completely absent.

What the cause of this was he knew all too well, but as for the physiological reasons for it, he needed to see more clearly.

Trying not to panic, he replaced the band-aid and locked the bathroom door, then pulled the Smartphone out of his pants pocket.

Not being able to urinate

Once he had typed that phrase into the search engine, he did not have to wait more than a couple of moments before he was provided with the answer, to which, of course, he did not fail to reply by making increasingly specific requests.

Lack of urination

Anuria

Causes anuria

Renal failure

Prognosis renal failure

If not adequately treated, the prognosis for kidney failure is always ominous, proving fatal in 100% of cases

As his breathing became labored, Alessandro lowered the toilet seat and took a seat on it. If he did not want him to have a heart attack, he absolutely had to calm down. Calm down, as if it were easy!

Fatal in 100% cases?

If the situation was really that bad then he certainly deserved the first prize as prince of idiots. By eating that mushroom he had practically killed himself.

Swallowing in anguish, Alessandro took a deep breath, and when he had finally regained the minimum amount of courage he needed, he typed into the search box: Renal failure symptoms

The list from a site specializing in medicine, which appeared at the top of the page with results, provided him with the answer he was looking for.

Anuria

Okay, that one was there

Fatigue and weakness

No

Muscle cramps and spasms

No

Lower limb edema

Alessandro snapped to his feet and uncovered his legs by pulling up the flaps of his own jeans.

No

Nausea and vomiting

No

Loss of appetite

Although he obviously could not put it into words, the vigorous grumbling that arose from his stomach at that very moment represented in itself a more than adequate answer to the question.

Definitely not.

The list proceeded no further, and Alessandro returned to his seat.

Only one out of six. Maybe it wasn't kidney failure after all, but that didn't take away from the fact that it was completely abnormal. No one stopped going to the bathroom overnight, right?

However, one also had to consider the fact, that eating alien mushrooms was not something that happened to ordinary people very often. And frankly, he doubted that he would find answers about it by doing Google searches. In any case, now that he was in that situation, it remained to be decided how to act from there on.

I mean, what was he supposed to do now? Tell everything, or not?

In the first scenario he would have had to be crazy enough to confess what he had done, the risks to which he had and continued to expose himself, not to mention the repercussions this would have on the lives of every member of the family.

Their existences would have been completely turned upside down. An assumption that smacked of the extreme, traumatizing and difficult to forgive.

Otherwise he would have continued to conduct the same routine as always. Definitely less disruptive, but risky.

Very risky.

What if that wasn't the only change he ended up running into? What if he had discovered other oddities?

How much longer would he be able to keep the secret? How long would his conscience allow him to do so?

The umpteenth growl that erupted from his stomach seemed almost to provide him with the answer.

As long as you resist.