His name was always a letter that lessened the tension, calling him could be an evocation of response free of pressure. An answer that would never be forced.
"No". The answer was clear and concise, even though two tiny tears began to run down her cheeks.
She reiterated it, with the negative expression on her face downcast.
Her hand grasped the latch on the door. She had stepped back an instant ago, being separated from Santino by more than afoot. He had extended a hand to her the moment he turned around, ready to enter the house.
He did not touch her, and even less did he call her back. She just stood there, stupidly still.
She closed the door slowly as if the hinges weighed more than a ton. Santino remained gone, still as a shadow in front of the door. And with the bouquet attempt in
