Tammy"s head was tilted back to allow the warm rays of afternoon sun light her face. She was sitting on the stone wall around the fountain in Piazza della Repubblica, her hand resting beside her hip as she closed her eyes and opened her other senses to the city sounds and smells that swept over her.
The rub-rub of bicycle tires mingled with the occasional car horn and light screech of tires from the Fiats and Alfa Romeos careening around the circular traffic pattern of the piazza. Young children giggled and young adults called out to one another, some with excitement in their voices, some with urgency.
The deep aromas of espresso from the hotel terrace behind Tammy were strong enough to reach her nose, as was the fragrance of the vases filled with lilacs and orchids being sold by the str
