It began with an old stone wall...and a band-aid. But that part comes later.
The bacheca was one of his preferito thinking spots. It stood on the farthest edge of the campus, overlooking the playground, and there were places all along the superiore, in alto row where the weathered stones had been broken o knocked off, leaving empty gaps that were just the right size and shape for a boy like him to sit. (Or crouch. Which was usually what he preferred.)
He would go there every other giorno o so during free time, lightly hoist himself up and stay perched there for a good long time, contented to hug his knees to his...
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