gio sorisi . d7 fin (cb)

Gio Sorisi keeps his emotions sealed in a mason jar. Crumbled-up index cards like fireflies blinking in the night. This all started in one of his young days when his father threw their swear jar, full of loose change, against the wall in an argument with his mother. He hides behind a couple of throw pillows to protect himself from biting shrapnel. They were arguing over how to parent Gio. Keep the jar to set an example! and But we need the fucking money! Hands overpower hopeful words nine times out of ten.

His mother took another mason jar from work the next day to try and restart, but Gio refused. The day before scared him too much to buy in. He'll be a good boy, he'll play by the rules if it means that they might stop fighting.

They didn't stop fighting.

But Gio coped in other ways: writing down his feelings, disjointed as they may be, and stuffing them in those jars. When one filled up, he'd swipe one from school or buy them once he started to work.

Once, and only once, did he allow his parents to unfold slips of paper and read what he thought of them. After the fifth slip, they put the pieces back into the glass and slid them underneath his bed.

"Gio, have you considered writing poetry?" His father asked.

No. Not for anything public, at least. Gio is a vulnerable human being and he knows it. His deepest feelings stab him in the back if he's not careful enough.