Santino closed his eyes.
The way Alexa had looked at him when she kissed him the day before came back to him at that moment, in that precise moment when he was leaving her life forever. He had turned and disappeared into the lonely streets.
He stopped on a sidewalk. A huge, tremulous but concise accumulation of anger was building in his mind. Anger against what? Against himself? Against life and his questions? Against what he had already anticipated?
Stupid. And he was stupidly angry if he could be named that.
The street was alone and he was the only one by the wall.
Each word of her and each memory of the events had struck the exact point to take away his dignity and leave him without the possibility of defending himself. He felt an overwhelming emptiness inside, the emptiness he had
