XVIII
The weather had suddenly worsened. The spring had decided on another bitchy start, similar to the whims of the most spoiled girl.
Totò Musumeci was laying on the cot inside the tent he shared with Ninni Battaglia. He was listening to the maestrale voice and it seemed to him that the night did not want to end.
He had thought about the dance party and the barrier of cold detachment that Elena De Santis had put in front of herself. That girl had moved him away decisively, and for him it was mortifying. In her he noticed something special, beyond the unattainable beauty. When he had observed her he had felt a tremor and had completely forgotten about the others, to which he had dedicated the night and his best efforts.
With Elena, however, he had not been successful and he wondered w
