When he starts a story? Typically beginning. Sometimes, though, is the end of a story that makes another start. So there are two categories of stories, those that start from the beginning and the beginning of the end. There are two categories of women, those who tell their story and those who do not tell, then there is a third, those that do not tell it right. Miss Color ...
not only tells the right, but tells it from the middle. The truth lies somewhere in between the rest and she does not like to say too much.
If you can see, on a sunny day, a woman of a certain age sitting at the best bar in the square, wearing a black dress black, pure black jacket and Coco Chanel shoulder bag attached to the chair, you can not miss it, it's her. But if you sit at the next table and, for education, gives her a smile, surely begin to tell you the color of ruby \u200b\u200bred lips, how life was beautiful in his time. And this will be the proof that she is.
jingling pendants gold bracelet coarse, in a few minutes, you will know that it is again young lady since she became a widow of an executive of a multinational that she had everything in life, including two children graduate with the highest marks they have taken a great career and has also made a grandmother of a beautiful girl, what you see advertising of baby food. It is just that little chubby on the glossy magazine that, by chance, in front, next to the jar with the rose.
But do not be fooled.
If you can see, in a rainy day, a woman of a certain age sitting in the smallest bar in the square, wearing a shapeless long skirt, a pair of old shoes, with his eyes wandering on the wall of the wall, but her lips colored bright red, you can not miss. It 's you. Whether the person, for education, a smile while drinking a coffee and she does not respond immediately, it will be proof that she is. It will bring the usual
bracelet that will tinkle in the same way when it's sunny, only that the young lady, as they call the old neighborhood still suffers from meteoropathy and so if the weather is bad, and barely breathing, will tell you to be back lady since her husband died poor and especially the year in which his sons are gone from home to live in another city with women che non hanno rispetto della famiglia e che le portano la nipotina, bella sempre, solamente a Natale.
Però la verità sta nel mezzo o forse neppure e la signorina non si è mai sposata. Per saperlo dovrete avere la fortuna di incontrarla in un giorno in cui il sole fa capolino tra le nubi e lei cammina, con la sua bocca rosso vermiglio, per la piazza, indecisa in quale bar fermarsi mentre, tra sé e sé, facendo tintinnare il braccialetto, si chiede se la scelta sarà intonata alla giornata. E forse, ripeto, forse, conoscerete la verità.
Sandra Palombo
Racconto breve scritto in occasione della Seconda sfida delle Belle Donne
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