They spent Tamara"s last evening in Rome walking up and down the Via Veneto. This avenue had long been the popular address for international stores, and the lights from the shops gleamed in multi-colors against the dark, starry night. Tamara held Giorgio"s hand, pressing a bit tighter than usual, as if to hold on to him as long, and as firmly, as possible.
They planned her return visit, once again six months hence, but this time their plans were more serious and, yet, more exciting.
“You can come back,” Giorgio began, “in six months, yes?”
Tamara nodded and smiled, squeezing his fingers in hers.
“Yes, of course,” she added, as a teardrop formed on her lower eyelid. “But I don"t want to go now.”
Giorgio returned her embrace as they walked further down the street.
He paused briefly at
