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December 6, 2012
The cool white sheets are wrapped around their legs and hips like soft ribbon, twisting them together, skin and fine linen. The glass doors to their balcony are ajar, and a stream of air comes off the Arno River. She floats, happy and exhausted, glistening like the wet cobblestone street outside the gelato shop. He had chocolate, and she tasted it on his tongue, under the white holiday lights strung across the plaza. Now, as she turns to kiss him, the overlapping chimes! Across all of Florence, church bells ring out, clappers touching lips. She catches her breath. Itís Christmas.