The Morning: Naked, she sat, on his bathroom floor, crying at what she had willingly done. She did not visit him for two weeks after that ordeal. Her ...ook became raggedwith wear as she constantly perused its pages. Her thoughts were of him, always.And though she did not call him or visit him she longed for him. And when shelet off work that Friday she went to him. He did not receive her as she thought that he would. He did not return thekiss she had given him nor did he hug her as before. And,. The answer came back, “A Mister di Angelo is here to see you.”The only di Angelo I knew was my late husband Gianni, who I understood was killed in 1929 in Canada, murdered with his only brother by rival bootleggers. I asked Suzanne to send him up to my office. I got up out of my chair and met him at the doorway. I couldn’t believe it! It was my Gianni, raised as if from the dead.I pulled him into the office and, before I could stop him, he kissed me on the lips. It was like all the kisses I. More

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