Carlo stayed in my small city for a whole week.For a solid week, he stubbornly performed for me, one by one, all the gestures he had once reserved only for Ava.Every morning at six sharp, a warm brown paper bag would appear on the doormat.They were the first batch of croissants from the best bakery in town. No nuts, not even a trace of hazelnut in the butter.In the afternoons, if the sky even hinted at rain, a new, long-handled black umbrella would be hanging from the doorknob.Whenever I went out late at night, even just to the corner store, a black sedan would follow me slowly, never too close, about two blocks behind.The window was always down, but the person inside never got out.Only at the moment I pushed open the old wooden door to my apartment building would the car silently drive away.This belated devotion, which would have made me weep with joy a year ago, now just felt exhausting.On the evening of the seventh day, I stopped him under the old-fashioned gas lamp in fron
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