Rose-Colored Hypnotism:
A short in the world of Terrestrial Magic
IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN romantic, perhaps. The leisurely stroll over a river at sunset, as a gentle wind tickled across my skin. The picturesque sight of the Ponte Vecchio to my left—our famous Florentine bridge, the shops built into its sides hanging over the water. It was a breathtaking view, even for one who has seen it dozens of times, and especially heady when shared with a handsome, courteous man.
That was how I imagined I was supposed to feel. Flattered, captivated.
Instead, I had already drafted half an outline of my research paper in my head, itching to write it down lest I forget all the work I had done. I only pretended to listen to Giuseppe comment on architectural minutia or the radiance of my hair in the evenin
