Men’s Shoes: Mezlan Men’s 12648 Oxford
She walked in front of him, her perfume wafting gently on the breeze. She glanced in the shop windows, happy.
He looked past her at the Ponte Vecchio. A dog ran past him, brushing his hand. He had to return to the States the next day. As much fun as they were having, things were getting worse. He decided to find out before he left. A final answer.
A woman emerged from the next shop with a blouse cradled in her arm. The sales pitch was lyrical. And short. We stopped. She ran the fabric through her hand. He touched the soft cotton.
“How much?” he asked.
The woman spoke rapidly in Italian. He understood exactly none.
“You shouldn’t!” she said.
“Oh, but I must. Time is short.”
He followed the excited woman into the shop. As he passed under the entranceway he saw a reflection in the window. A man stood about 15 paces from her. He wore a long black coat and a black toque. He was motionless, staring at them.
It was her father.
