short story by Elena Solito
"always wore a scarf on his head for protection from the sun , by the wind, to hide along with a pair of dark glasses. Blacks. Or maybe just for show. A habit or necessity. Why does a woman like that, with the colorful silk around the head, it would have passed unnoticed. Framed her face, showing the oval of her face, big eyes, high cheekbones. The look of one who passed her rested for a moment on that figure, because of the cravat and because of the clicking of her heels clacking on the pavement.
a moment, then her image disappeared through the streets of the city, which also engulfed his memory. "
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