Cassandra Reid

I look at the clock one more time as my patient's mother chatters non–stop, as if we were lifelong friends. This is my daily routine. Women of Florence want to know me and like me for the simple fact of being married to Adriano Di Lauro. It's annoying and although on many occasions it's not hard for me to smile or keep thread of the conversation going, today I just pray her talk ends and she lets me go to the cafeteria. As usual, it's past lunchtime and I'm starving.

"Well, my husband is waiting for me outside". The long–awaited words finally arrive. "I guess we'll see each other at the next consultation... or maybe", she doesn't give me time to answer, "we could meet one of these days for a drink".

"I sure do", I dismiss her a bit quickly without losing my smile. "I'll find some free space in my calendar and call you. Goodbye, beautiful". I place one last kiss on my laughing patient. Seeing that little face is worth resisting her mother.

"Perfect". Although her tone so