CHAPTER 31
I entered the house already looking forward to the now familiar and comforting scene of Peter sitting on the sofa with his guitar. I was disappointed at not finding him. I wanted to talk to him. Maybe leave here, or at least try to.
At times my rational part clung on details related to the career, the situation, the future. What kind of future could I have with Peter? The words echoed in my mind like an annoying drum, a deafening and pitiless lullaby. They mercilessly hit me and sank me, in fact. What kind of future could I have with Peter? And turning the tables... What future could Peter have with me? Peter, after all, had his Lolita and if the relationship ended with her, he would have another one, then another one and another one. Until, sooner or later, he found the right
