Chiara looks out.
«Come in and don't make all this noise!»
«Why don't I have to make noise?» I purposely say aloud.
She is wearing tight shorts and an equally tight blue top: enchanted to look at her, I don't notice right away ...
Suddenly the shrill scream of a child.
«Well, thanks.»
She approaches the bed where a baby blessedly slept. He will be about a year old, he is chubby and full of blonde curls. Chiara takes him in her arms.
«I wanted to introduce you to him.»
She starts pacing back and forth holding him to her chest.
I remain as if paralyzed at the entrance to the room.
«He is…»
«Yes, he is my son.»
I've never seen Chiara like this. She has always been distant with me: the few times she approached, she shortly afterwards withdrew. With him she is full of attention: she
