012
The sky had turned dark, but Don Dante had yet to conceal the anguish that had welled up inside him. He was pacing the room, a glass of alcoholic wine clutched in his left hand and a cigarette stick smoldering between his fingers.
Since the death of his wife, that was the only way he could pull himself together. Since being married, he had given up smoking and excessive alcohol use, but the loss of his closest loved one forced him to pick up the terrible habit again since he knew it w...
