Tabatha put on a little make-up but she didn’t need much. Her glow was radiant and she felt alive again. She walked through the little Italian town but always seemed to find herself back at the fruit market where she had met him; hoping he would be there waiting for her. Time had been kind to her. Her olive complexion looked as though the sun had kissed her. The Italians thought she was a local, Americans thought she was Italian. She had broken off her relationship with Gianni but regretted it almost immediately He had shown her how to awaken her soul; to love herself without filters, without strings, without judgement. When they first met, he spoke broken English and her Italian was noticeably rusty. She was a foreigner but she still felt at home in Italy. And she considered herself to be as fluent as you could be as a foreigner. Tabatha bought a basket of fruit and waited. She had hurt him badly but didn’t mean half of the things she said to him. His feelings for her had taken her by surprise and now she needed to show him how lost she was without him.
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