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Under the Tuscan Sun
Category: Romance
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.
The market was bustling with merchants, their voices a chorus of bargains and boasts.
It was the kind of night when secrets refused to stay buried.
The garden had been her mother’s pride, and now it was hers.
Some doors, once opened, can never be closed again.
He stood at the edge of the cliff, looking down at the waves crashing below.
The train pulled out of the station with a long, mournful whistle.
The end.