Adriana had lighted one more cigarette in the glass holder, softly held between the fingers of her left hand and had it inhaled swiftly. There was no rush to exhale the smoke soon. She looked more red in anxiety. She was restless.
She grabbed the glass of wine in her right hand and walked towards the balcony. She hated to wait anymore minute and looked impatiently towards the big wall clock. The bells of the clock are yet to ring at the stroke of midnight. Bell ringing at the stroke of midnight were the signs of her hope of seeing Gil anytime soon.
She was aware of the fact that the love affair she assumed herself to be into was posthumous. She knew Gil belonged to some other time, some other world in a different era and to a different lady. But you can never logically deprive your heart of…
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