Florence was beautiful in a different way than I remembered. I'm somewhere else now, far away from him and the guilt, S kept me with her for almost a month. "I came for a wedding but stayed for the funeral" she said when we parted at the train station, her little smile a breath of both late summer and early spring.
We had fun, I forgot about Paris and slept for whole nights without the recurring nightmares. We spent hours at the Uffizi, then hours at Harry's Bar by the river close to Via Tornabouni before somehow making our way back to her apartment.
She seems happier now, the way I remember her from years ago before the dark clouds and the chronic anxiety. I was sure that standing in front of the Annunciation again would remind me of easier times and I tried hard to feel something but I never did. Memories are fading still, my father's ghost slowly disintegrates like stardust.