'Tranquil Beauty'
Suspicion:
When we arrived at the bar, the atmosphere was typically vociferous; the air was fumigated by the opaque smoke of cigarettes and its fragrance mingled with the potent smell of Italian wine and beer. I felt at home, relaxing into the familiar and enticing aroma that permeated the bar. Belle led the way to a small table at a far corner.
"One whisky please," she called to a bypassing bar waiter.
"I'll have one too," I added.
She leaned back in her chair, making the table the target of her gaze. The features of her face etched into an expression devoid of emotion. The murder must have rendered her mind into a state of senility. I remained motionless and quiet in my seat opposite her; content to not desecrate the wall of silence she had created. I was also content to imbibe my whisky; addiction rekindled like a candle when the liquid flowed through my mouth. We sat in this manner for a while until she finally spoke.
"What am I doing with my life?" The words were spoken in a soft tone.
"Living it with strength." I replied. Belle grunted, as if to say, "Yeah right," the look in her eyes still distant. For hours we talked but I already had knowledge of everything she told me about Claudio Fiori. However, I did learn something new and it was that a 'tranquil beauty' sat before me; the lurid, large brown eyes now imbued with a wistful gaze, and the silken olive skin upon the delicate face that reflected the lustre of the night in which I luxuriated.
"I need to go now," Belle suddenly said after an eloquent conversation about her life with Claudio.
"Ok.my belle. Shall we adjourn our meeting to a date in the near future? And your husband doesn't have to be the topic of our conversation. I have a lot of other things that I'd love to tell you." I grinned as I said this and a brief, volatile smile curved over her face. Belle stood up and walked to the entrance of the bar; her gait conveying a woman of elegance.
I stayed at the table, watching her, because addiction was persistently agitating for another whisky. As she opened the door of the bar, an impetuous draught caught the end of her long, flowing coat, divulging the cold metallic glint of a gun that was sidling up her right boot.
The sight plunged me into deep thought: why was she carrying a gun with her? Could I have been talking to the murderer of Claudio Fiori? Jealousy? An Affair? Hate? There were only a few reasons why a woman would kill her husband. Belle had just left.where did she need to go?
When we arrived at the bar, the atmosphere was typically vociferous; the air was fumigated by the opaque smoke of cigarettes and its fragrance mingled with the potent smell of Italian wine and beer. I felt at home, relaxing into the familiar and enticing aroma that permeated the bar. Belle led the way to a small table at a far corner.
"One whisky please," she called to a bypassing bar waiter.
"I'll have one too," I added.
She leaned back in her chair, making the table the target of her gaze. The features of her face etched into an expression devoid of emotion. The murder must have rendered her mind into a state of senility. I remained motionless and quiet in my seat opposite her; content to not desecrate the wall of silence she had created. I was also content to imbibe my whisky; addiction rekindled like a candle when the liquid flowed through my mouth. We sat in this manner for a while until she finally spoke.
"What am I doing with my life?" The words were spoken in a soft tone.
"Living it with strength." I replied. Belle grunted, as if to say, "Yeah right," the look in her eyes still distant. For hours we talked but I already had knowledge of everything she told me about Claudio Fiori. However, I did learn something new and it was that a 'tranquil beauty' sat before me; the lurid, large brown eyes now imbued with a wistful gaze, and the silken olive skin upon the delicate face that reflected the lustre of the night in which I luxuriated.
"I need to go now," Belle suddenly said after an eloquent conversation about her life with Claudio.
"Ok.my belle. Shall we adjourn our meeting to a date in the near future? And your husband doesn't have to be the topic of our conversation. I have a lot of other things that I'd love to tell you." I grinned as I said this and a brief, volatile smile curved over her face. Belle stood up and walked to the entrance of the bar; her gait conveying a woman of elegance.
I stayed at the table, watching her, because addiction was persistently agitating for another whisky. As she opened the door of the bar, an impetuous draught caught the end of her long, flowing coat, divulging the cold metallic glint of a gun that was sidling up her right boot.
The sight plunged me into deep thought: why was she carrying a gun with her? Could I have been talking to the murderer of Claudio Fiori? Jealousy? An Affair? Hate? There were only a few reasons why a woman would kill her husband. Belle had just left.where did she need to go?