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The Italian Affair
Category: Romance
She had not expected to see him again, not after all these years.
The fire had burned down to embers, but neither of them moved to stoke it.
Some doors, once opened, can never be closed again.
The letter was still on the table, unopened, as it had been for three days.
The train pulled out of the station with a long, mournful whistle.
A cold wind swept across the plain, carrying with it the scent of distant rain.
The map was old, its edges frayed, but the path it showed was unmistakable.
The market was bustling with merchants, their voices a chorus of bargains and boasts.
The end.