His feet ached more and more as he ran to his office.

It was a small American News Service station in Rome. It sat right along with the other street shops in the town. It never held much significance. Not to the Italians, anyway.

Time has gone by since he was both excused and late. His first lie was such a flop, the idea of lying again was absurd.

You say that you interview a princess, like you were supposed to, and it turns out that apparently, she was extremely ill. He knows when you're telling a lie! Joe, you're insane!

Telling the truth of what really happened would be just like that. Unbelievable. Too outlandish to even be considered something that actually happened.

When he finally arrived, he took one last breath. In mere minutes, his time in Rome was just about over.

His working time in Rome, that is.

He gave himself the willpower to walk in the doors. He knew there was a bright side to being fired.

If he was fired, he would be free. And if he was free, he could see Anne again.

When he was in the office, he heard the sounds of clicking typewriters and nervous footsteps. His footsteps.

The building was small, so small that he could see the doors to his boss's room instantly. They were less than fifty feet away from him. He tried to keep himself from running away and instead ran towards the doors.

As usual, his boss was sitting at his desk. His feet were up on the hickory wood, supposedly imported from New York State.

"You're late again, Joe! Sei sempre in ritardo!" He was American, like his employee, but maintained a fluency in Italian. For business. He had to keep speaking it, or he would lose everything he built for himself in Italy. Including the News Service.

"I'm sorry, sir. Really. There was just a traffic jam-"

"There was no traffic jam out there! There never was! Why were you really late?"

"Well... It all began when I woke up yesterday morning.."