<continued>

There she was, standing next to the open car door, her left foot on the floorboard, leaning on the window frame … he walked around the Fiat to the other side, noting the Italian license plate … They were silent riding off.

She was concentrating on the curves in the road, while the corporal found nothing to say. He felt as if he were in a trance and was blaming the hot sun on his face. This could have been a dream except that his shoulder was rubbing against her soft leather jacket and her fine skin was close enough to be touched… Tiny punctures in her earlobes suggested earrings, but she wore none; there was not a single stone or piece of gold on her.

She must be Italian… “I heard that your outfit will be spending two weeks in the territory.” He wasn’t startled by her voice, but the warmth of it meant more than her words, and he could only nod when she glanced over. “It must be exciting to use the real thing … I mean real ammo for the exercise.”

How did she know so much? The lump in his throat was still giving him trouble and again he just nodded when she looked at him. “Are you married?” He managed something like a laugh.
“I’m not married.”
“So you do know how to talk,” she said, smiling. “How about your girlfriend? You do have a girlfriend.” …His answer was a bashful smile.

... more >