Mouthful after mouthful, Clare almost finished her sandwich. Meanwhile I watched around, and I noticed something unusual. I couldn’t define what it was: the room had a different style, and, while its familiar countrified air, it wore a sugar and shabby veil, as a second-hand shop of the country. I looked at Clare and realized that she sat on a stool, covered with dark leather, supported to the wall.
“Before, there wasn’t.” I doubted within myself
“I’m wrong, maybe there was!” I thought, unsure of my short-term memory.
I sharpened the senses, thrust into memory, searched the room with careful eyes, and, finally, I saw the new decor of the hall, that the curiosity about the gramophone had not pointed out to me.
After a month, the owners have changed something, I thought, doubtful, while I took from my fairy tales hand bag my spiced notebook and the black pen.
“We are so far ahead, that the future is back!” exclaimed a male voice, suddenly.
Instinctively I looked back: he was an elderly man, who browsed the local newspaper. He was a cheerful guy who made noise even with the body posture, the incessant hand gestures and the ruddy face that told about a lot of “Pirli” and “corrected” coffees with brandy.
I imagineted he referred to certain innovations obvious and useless, copy of the old things, or he had just read an article about some Brescia excellences which to feel proud. I was tempted to ask about, but I gave up, when realized that the man I was tempted to ask for an explanation, but I gave up when I realized that the man looked at me curiously, and glanced at my hair, at the handbag, the notebook and Clare.
«Why is he looking at me?” I wonder, as I began to take notes on my small memo book to hot pepper chocolate.