TWENTY-FIVE
Teodoro stopped at the edge of the piazzetta. Side by side they stood motionless, hands entwined, watching the sparse crowd mill about the shadow-filled courtyard. From behind them flowed the insistent lapping of the lagoon waves as they met the shore and the fine mist that accompanied them.
“Go, Sophia. I’ll stay and return in a few moments.” Teodoro launched her forward with a tug of his arm, unable or unwilling to look at her, his mouth set firm in a grim line. “We should not go back together, not the way we look.”
Sophia’s hand rose to her bruised and swollen lips. One glance at the man beside her and she saw he suffered a similar fate. Despite his best efforts, she could feel the errant strands of hair that hung upon her neck in disarray. She stepped before him, smoothi
