Something about one-shouldered shirts and two-and-a-half piece suits.
Something about waiting for the weather.
Something about voices shaking. And cobblestone.
Something about tonight smells like the bottle of shampoo we bought in the supermarket in Italy the week we had to share a shower with the strangers who were staying at the other end of the hall. (Now that I smell it again, though, I think that we washed our hair, all week, accidentally, with dish soap.)
