In Berlin the sun was nowhere to be found. Jack walked aimlessly. Took a few trains. Tried to think. Think without writing in hopes that the connection would return but it was just himself alone with his own thoughts.

The memories he had inherited from the other man were now fading. He couldn't even remember the other man's name. There were just images now. He could see them but couldn't make sense of them; like a dream he was trying to remember.

By evening the sun was too low he had to squint and tilt his head down. He thought of stopping by a bar for a beer but went back to the airbnb instead. There was a 2 euro beer in the fridge that he had bought the previous day. He planned to drink it and return to writing. He knew he had to write another draft, but he was really sick of this story now. He wanted to write something new... or no... he wanted to. He didn't want to write at all actually. All he wanted was for the connection to return.

In the kitchen he swigged the beer three times before realizing he didn't even enjoy it. The only thing that beckoned now was finding that man. In real life. Maybe that was the only way they could have the connection now. He forgot what island the man was by. All Jack knew was that he was in Italy. He couldn't do any writing. He would just fly there and figure it out.