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Nineteen
Andre stood in front of the wooden door, ringing the doorbell for the fifth time. His heart raced as the million and one thoughts bombarded him. He only hoped she would open the door, she would be alive after all these years. But that was the least of his troubles.
The door creaked and a young beautiful lady stood in front of him, too young to ever be Miss Barton. Her eyes pierced into him with a harsh stern as she spoke,
"quién eres tú 'Who are you?' " Something about her rode the man in him. Maybe it was the strong Spanish accent that followed her voice when she speaks or the brownness of her eyes piercing into him.
"Hi..." He struggled to speak. He gulped, clearing the blockage that prevented him from speaking clearly but it was quickly replaced with another. His eyes trailed down her brown skin, automatically halted on her cleavage almost clearly visible except for the thin white fabric s
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