The indulgence was beyond her discipline. She wondered the cobbled streets inhaling the humid aroma of time past swirled with this Tuesday. She licked her lips. Her eyes darted to the rough stone walls that drew her fingers. How could this city have preserved itself while her seventies suburban box was nearly falling over. The difference between quality construction and worthy architecture.
She stepped up to the gelato counter. God she loved this little exterior invitations to indulge in the creamy sweet goodness. What would she have today? She reviewed the flavors chocolate, hazelnut, vanilla. She realized she was working her way through the flavors every day. If she didn’t take anything else out of Venice, she at least got calories. Rich, delightful, stick to your hips calories. It wasn’t just the gelato there was the pasta, the risotto, and polenta mixed with fruits of the sea that she had only seen on the cooking channel back home.
Fragola, she struggled to pronounce to the boy’s efforts at English. Grazie they offered in unison. She turned east seeking the window of carved wooden everyday objects. Was her favorite the bundle of balloons or the coat rack with a man’s coat and hat appearing to hang but actually one with and smooth connected umbrella carved in as if it were propped against the rack. The warm hues of reds and gold’s felt alive. If it weren’t for the ever-present voice of her mother who was long passed reminder her “not to touch”, Carol would have caressed the masculine piece.