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We were always congenial and comfortable aroundeach other. She never really got on my nerves and I canonly assume I never got on hers. She was always in acheerful, yet reserved mood around me. Pleasant,upbeat, yet not overly enthusiastic, possibly even shy.It always seemed like when she was force a smile, sheactually wanted to smile, but was shy to let on thatshe wanted to smile. It was sometimes strange tobehold, albeit cute and adorable.Katie was a bit of a homebody. She had friends andtalked on the phone occasionally but she was so farfrom the atypical teenaged girl. You’d never catch herrolling around on her bed, chewing loudly on gum whileyakking nonsensically on the phone about unimportantbullshit with some equally typical teenaged girl aboutwhat boys they thought were cute.She was usually pretty quiet and kept to herself butwhen she did speak up, she was always soft-spoken, kindand sincere and as if she was generally interested ineverything you had to say. It was quite. ”“On the left?”“Si signorina. Her name is on the door.”“Multo gratzie!” I said in what little Italian I had.Inside, the institute was an odd mish mash of sterile rooms in a crusty edifice, with age worn paintings and old wedding cake ceilings. On the second floor I emerged in one such area, which had a modern appearance, with blank white walls and little stain glass windows at the top of the stair well. It was as if you were constantly reminded that you were in Rome. No matter how advanced the science was, you were nudged in the ribs by culture.I picked my way along the corridor, noseying through the little, fire-proof windows where white-coated workers were looking through microscopes and using all sorts of cutting edge instruments. At last I arrived at the door marked Dr E di Rosso. I knocked once and entered cautiously. A slim, attractive dark-haired woman of thirty or so looked up from a book that she was reading.“Cindy Lucina?”“Yes. That’s me!”“You’re younger than I had.
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