This chapter is for Lavinia, who gave me the right suggestion. Grazie!

9.

The familiar smell makes his head spin.

A family, on his left. Mom, dad and a five-year-old son. Everything normal. Everything obvious. Everything expected. Joyful glances, laughter. A happy family.

Usual bench in the usual park. Usual sun which starts to warm. Usual melancholic and abandoned Luka. Usual menacing Vukovar. Immobility.

But it's the smell which is disturbing his thoughts. The smell.

----

"Luka, you're going to burn the meat…"

"That's not true!"

Doubtful glance, a well-knowingly glance. Every woman owns such similar glance. It's the glance every single woman's going to use with her husband. Men, they know nothing.

"Dani, just stop it! I've been grilling cevapcici since I was a kid"

"You mean you looked at your father doing it"

He turns, offended. In that moment Marko starts wailing. Danijela goes to him. Luka can't hide his satisfaction. The grill is his own business. Just like cars, electronics and soccer games. Obvious, expected. Men and women. Immobile evolution.

----

They're eating now, as if they didn't care about the whole world. And it's probably true. Happy people are always a little weird, a little far away from reality.

----

"Luka, we're going to catch a cold!"

"C'mon, you know it's only an old-wives tale"

Imploring glance. Luka, who's able to speak without saying a word. How is she supposed to resist him?

"Ok, but this is the first and the last time I'll do such things"

Abby steps closer to him. Large raindrops are marking her coat and pants, she feels them soaking her hair. And yet…holding him, under the rain, she has never felt so happy.

Luka, her crazy boyfriend.

----

Luka reflects.

Happiness, what a weird thing. Happiness which hits you when you last expect it. Happiness is a camp fire, three people and some meat to roast.

----

"What the heck are those things?"

"Alex!"

Luka smiles. He likes Alex and his not-so-well-mannered behaviour. Just like him when he was a child.

"They're cevapcici"

"Ce… what?"

"Cevapcici. Meat to roast"

"Ah, like spits"

The spell of exotic already gone. Like spits. As if it was enough to explain what cevapcici mean to Luka. Culture, homeland, love, habitude, life.

Like spits. Everything thrown away by two simple words. Like spits.

----

It's so strange. How many lives Luka has lived. How many stops and how many occasions. But he knew, he knew Vukovar was there for him.

Vukovar, the start of the end, his prime trauma. Vukovar, a piece of his heart.

He raises his knees, putting the feet on the bench. He encircles the knees with his arms and puts his head on them. Defence position. He's trying to protect himself from the whole world.

He's alone, and deadly scared. All that open space, he can be assaulted from everywhere.

----

"You never fall asleep by giving your back to the window"

While speaking, Abby's following Luka's strong profile. Cheekbones, browns, nose, lips, chin. It's a soft touch, a sweet caress. Luka's on the verge of sleep, but he wants to answer her first.

"I don't like the idea"

And he stops. His eyes are closed. She stares at his long and dark lashes. She can't help wondering for the millionth time what Luka is hiding from her. What can scare him so much?

----

He's nervous.

The father's looking at him with curiosity. He couldn't help but notice that stranger staring at his wife and child. Now, he's trying to understand if Luka could be a danger.

Luka stands. He doesn't want to add problems to problems. Last trace of sweet cevapcici smell reaches his nostrils. He sways a little. He takes a deep breath. The other man's still fixing him, his lips pursued.

Luka steps away.

There are no solutions.