The heat around us comes from the bonfire. The wood needed to fuel it comes from the carousel floor. Nena takes another piece and throws it into the fire.
"What do we do now without the ride?" I ask her.
She doesn"t answer me, the carny is speechless. I bit my tongue in anger. Stretching my feet toward the flames, I catch a glimpse of her face. She is sad, she has put on his shawl. She is pale, does not answer me, I approach and rephrase the question.
She shrugs her shoulders. She wants to hug me, but I pull away as if getting a shock.
"It"s raining." I tell her, "I"m going in."
She grabs me by the arm, "Carì, do you love me?" "What?"
"I asked you if you still love me."
I look at her as one looks at the sky without stars. Her eyes have grown small. They are dull firmaments. She loo
