Tre Donne — Claudia

She would really like to change that sofa or not have bought it at all, ever since Enrico in the shop had imposed himself by intervening both on the choice of upholstering it in leather and on the model that she, Claudia, did not find comfortable at all. But Enrico was like that, he cared more about aesthetics, the kind that interior designers raved about, than everyday comfort. The result: years of unnatural seating according to her; well-being and design perfectly matched according to him. But now, feeling caught by a force of gravity that she has labeled as unbearable tiredness, even that imposing object suits her because it finally offers her the possibility of lying down.

It seems to her that a dark force is holding her pinned to the cold cushion as she slowly lowers her back, feeling her spine stretch out like a chain and creak.

"How time flies, poor me!" she thinks, letting that complaint fade away with the review of all the chores she still has to do. Vertebrae and thoughts settle down, as if there were a silent agreement between them so that Claudia can close her eyes for about ten minutes (no more, for heaven's sake!) and recover. The house is silent, and this time instead of experiencing it as an inconvenience that further emphasizes her loneliness, she is grateful for it. A few minutes, she asks for nothing more.