The Charmer
She was window shopping at the airport, browsing the duty free goods in the crowded International Terminal. She appeared to be oblivious to the handsome, olive-skinned man who watched her. He hesitated several times as he approached, finally speaking to her with a thick Italian accent and broken English.
“Scusi,” he said “Can I say to you something?”
She appeared to be taken aback by the smiling man whom I guessed to be eight to ten years her junior. “Oh, yes of course.” She replied.
“I love your… How do you say…” he wiggled his fingers in a twinkling motion. “ummmm…freckles? Si! I am loving your freckles. Bellissima!”
She managed to mutter “Thank you” as her eyes lowered and her cheeks reddened.
“Some say” he continued as his smile broadened “they are the kisses of the angels.”
She smiled, suddenly appearing years younger, almost schoolgirl-like. “Yes” she replied “I have heard that.”
“Aaaahhh” the European look skyward and sighed wistfully. “How I wish I were an angel….”
Completely flustered, she turned a deeper shade of scarlet and muttered something unintelligible as she quickly walked away.
“Oh my” I whispered to myself. “I have GOT to go to Italy.”
