Malcesine Youths’ Sailing Club Accident Inspires Reflection

It’s five thirty the day before yesterday. Night slowly erases details and prepares to swallow even the shadows. The eastern horizon is a bright line: it’s the headlights of cars coming from Malcesine towards Torbole. The keeper of the Fraglia, casting a distracted glance towards the outer dock, registers the usual sway of the sailboat masts at anchor, and immediately observes beyond, on the concrete corridor, two very young boys—so young that they don’t even have a driver’s license or a car to hide a bit of tenderness. He pays no attention and returns to his work.

Accident and consequences

He wouldn’t even remember it if, around seven, they hadn’t entered the ground-floor room of the celebrated sailing club, soaked like fledglings, cold, searching for a dry break before facing the crossing toward home. It had happened that he, caught up in the spell of his first thousand kisses, hadn’t noticed the size of the dock which, a little wet and slimy with that greenish moss, betrayed him. As he fell into the void, he instinctively clung to the only thing he could grasp, and it was her. That’s how she pulled him back.

Results and final messages

They precisely fitted the space between two bows, and that’s where it ended. The water was deep enough to cover the rocks. After pulling themselves up, they returned home. The next day, they recovered her glasses and phone from the bottom. Thank you, guys. As long as things like this happen, we can smile at tomorrow.