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The Italian Affair
Category: Romance
The letter was still on the table, unopened, as it had been for three days.
She had learned long ago not to trust promises.
He stood at the edge of the cliff, looking down at the waves crashing below.
The map was old, its edges frayed, but the path it showed was unmistakable.
He was the kind of man who kept his word, even when it cost him.
The morning light filtered through the curtains, painting the room in soft gold.
There were stories told of this place, and none of them ended well.
The market was bustling with merchants, their voices a chorus of bargains and boasts.
The end.