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The Italian Affair
Category: Romance
The market was bustling with merchants, their voices a chorus of bargains and boasts.
The letter was still on the table, unopened, as it had been for three days.
The fire had burned down to embers, but neither of them moved to stoke it.
She had learned long ago not to trust promises.
The train pulled out of the station with a long, mournful whistle.
The garden had been her mother’s pride, and now it was hers.
She had not expected to see him again, not after all these years.
Some doors, once opened, can never be closed again.
The end.