Date: Tue, 15 Aug 2006 09:20:14 +0200
From: A.K. <andrej@andrejkoymasky.com>
Subject: "The Choice" 02/15 (Adult Youth)

----------------------------

THE CHOICE
by Andrej Koymasky (C) 2006
written on November 12th 1996
translated by the author
English text kindly revised
by Khasidi

-----------------------------

USUAL DISCLAIMER

"THE CHOICE" is a gay story, with some parts containing graphic scenes
of sex between males. So, if in your land, religion, family, opinion and
so on this is not good for you, it will be better not to read this
story. But if you really want, or because YOU don't care, or because you
think you really want to read it, please be my welcomed guest.

-----------------------------

CHAPTER 2 - ADRIANO'S TORMENTS

Adriano was nearing his twentieth birthday. Up to this point he had
travelled his life's path fairly successfully. He had passed from
childhood to youth and on to adolescence. Now that he was approaching
the threshold of maturity peacefully, however he was experiencing the
facts of life, facts which were often severe.

He had gone along all his life, from birth to the present with a heart
full of warmth and an extremely gentle and serene nature. This nature
very seldom caused him to confront conflicts with his parents'
authority, an authority which asked total and immediate obedience and
which ruled his development.

In high school, as in the neighborhood, Adriano didn't develop any
friendship which might be regarded as too close - not even by his
vigilant mother. Nevertheless, the boy, with quiet speech and extremely1
attractive looks, was liked very much by everybody. So, his adolescence
was locked into the framework of only that which was carefully planned
by his parents. This framework surrounded him on every side, from parish
activities to the carefully chosen private school, to parties organized
by the adults for their children. He had always been one of the clique,
fully accepted by both boys and girls his own age, and by the adults,
too. The result was that Adriano had only a slight notion of what it
would mean to travel down his own road in life, different than the one
which had been instilled in him.

He developed the idea that life was something difficult and hard. In
fact, the boy soon understood that he sometimes had to ignore the
uncertain and unexplored emotions and desires he felt if they did not
seem to fit within that rigid framework.

But every aspect of his life was about to change. Adriano Crespi had
reached a fork in the road his life was taking. Never again would he
ignore what he was feeling in himself physically or mentally. It was on
a Wednesday that the change occurred.

In the room he shared with his brother Diego Adriano was tossing and
turning in his bed. He wanted to sleep, but he was in a troubled state
of drowsiness and he was conscious of his body as never before. He
tossed and turned repeatedly, first on his back, then on his belly, and
then on his side, uselessly trying to fall asleep. Though his eyes were
closed, he was in that state halfway between waking and sleeping where
thoughts mix with dreams. Images of Father Gustavo filled his mind. They
ran like a movie against his closed eyelids, vividly real, and in all of
them Father Gustavo was smiling at him...

That night, Adriano's fantasy was very real. The boy, in his sleepy
state recalled Gustavo two years before at the parish summer camp. The
young priest had been wearing only a light blue Speedo and his almost
naked body had been bathed in sunlight... he remembered Gustavo's
perfect muscles, and his fantasy superimposed onto these images the
warm, soft, gentle voice of the priest's sermons. Then Adriano
remembered how, when he had stolen in to wake him up the previous year,
a scent had emanated from the young man as he lay abandoned to exhausted
sleep. Effortlessly, the boy's memory joined this scent with the vision
of Gustavo that hovered in his imagination.

And then, in his drowsiness, the boy felt that he really was lying near
this beautiful man, and his member began slowly to swell and harden. His
ball sack hung softly between his thighs which suddenly burned like a
furnace. While he was hovering thus between waking and sleeping, his
mind breathless with the dreamlike vision, he made an oath of eternal
love to his invisible companion.

Side by side in the magical darkness of the night, Adriano and his
beloved lay in the shadow where dreams quiver, bringing messages,
wonderful messages, like those they whispered to each other in that
incredible half dream. Words came from pieces of sermons. Their
conversation, skillfully cut and pasted by his fantasy, became the
soundtrack of his vision and caused his phantom to utter words of love
as his golden body pressed against Adriano.

A burning passion created by his subconscious fantasies now engulfed
Adriano. His strong, slender body, gently cuddled by these sensations,
lay in the small, dark room perfectly conscious of all its parts and the
wonderful heat it was feeling. His desire, once aroused, was more real
than the vision lying with him on his bed. Adriano exchanged the
imaginary man's hand for his own and gave himself in the secret of the
darkness the sweet sensations that his fantasy could not.

Adriano's hands slowly moved under the blanket that sheltered him from
the winter's cold. They moved gently over his chest then slowly
descended to his belly, almost with a will of their own, gliding over
his burning skin. The fingertips of his tapered hands gently brushed his
soft, smooth, silky skin and wandered about like a flock of sparrows
flying in wide circles, low over a wheat field. His fingers lightly
swept and finally landed on the firm tree that was rising at the end of
that wide plane... Emitting a very light moan, Adriano arched his body
and rapidly slipped his white cotton briefs, the only garment he
normally wore to bed, towards his knees. Finally, he gave substance to
his fantasy in the classical way that boys in their lonely pleasure
games do.

While he was at last coming inside his closed hand, he murmured words of
love to his wonderful, nonexistent companion Then, sated, he gently
drifted into a deep sleep.

The next afternoon after classes, while he was sitting at the bar near
the university drinking a warm cappuccino, Adriano recalled the previous
night. He clearly understood that his only hope of finally finding peace
in his soul was to find an ear capable of listening, a heart able to
understand, a friend with whom to share the secrets which he had for so
long hidden even from himself. If he could express his feelings with
words, if he could tell this friend his problems, make them come out
from his heart and mind, his fears might be emptied of their power.

Yet he felt emptied of any hope, on the edge of a ravine of fear. A deep
trouble was freezing his young heart. Sitting in the bar, the
nineteen-year-old boy anxiously started to repeat to himself all the
needs he was feeling. He tried to convince himself that he had to at
last face them; because he had to find an answer, a solution, a way out
from the problem that was torturing his mind. No, absolutely not, he
could no longer continue this way.

All morning long Adriano felt this way. He tried to make order of his
emotions, his thoughts, his desires that the previous night for the
first time had surfaced so strongly and had occupied his thoughts all
during his university classes. But all the wheels of his brain seemed to
be out of order; they refused to turn as they had before. And in the
same way, all the resolutions he was making, in one sense or the other,
were dismounted. They seemed useless, impossible. Everything was out of
order. His head buzzed.

He considered all the possibilities. He thought that, perhaps because of
some unwitting mistake he had made, an unknown but powerful force was
driving him down the wrong lane. This possibility could explain the
curse he seemed to be under, why his life was running on a track so
different from those fixed for him, for everybody, for all he knew. But
he honestly could find no means to free himself from his problems, to
get back on the right track. No, it was impossible, he had to admit it.

But, though he was frustrated, he understood that this explanation was
not sensible. He tightened his lips. "Fucking shit!" he exclaimed in a
low voice. He had become aware that he was in a labyrinth of dead ends.
Even if the majority of older people would have sworn that Adriano was
too young to understand what real suffering was, the pain that the boy
was feeling was deeper and harder, sharper and stronger, than the strong
icy wind of that winter afternoon.

Sitting in front of his steaming cup, his chair leaning back,
precariously balanced, his shoulders braced against the old oak wall,
Adriano sat for a long while in silence. He looked at his hands in his
lap. His fingers were tightly intertwined, almost in an anguished
prayer. But finally he could focus his thoughts and he was reaching a
decision.

He did a slow and careful accounting of his situation in his mind. In
one column he put all he would lose, and, in another, all he would gain.
Among the losses there was, in the first row, the iron hand with which
his father had ruled his life from his birth until today. Under profits
he included the loving spirit he found in his young pastor. So, it took
very little for Adriano to rationalize his needs and to chose to open
his heart to the person who gave him more of a guarantee of
understanding, Father Gustavo. The fact that, just the night before, he
had dreamed of him in such an intimate way, the fact that he had to
admit to himself that he was in love with the man, didn't hold him back
from his decision. For he was also convinced that only Father Gustavo
could understand and help him, nobody else. He had only to tell his
priestly friend about his problem, the problem of his desires - he
wouldn't, of course, tell him about his love for the priest himself.

The electric bell that rang each time somebody opened the bar's door
shook him from his deep thoughts. Adriano stood up decisively, picked up
his books and resolutely left the bar, leaving his untouched cappuccino
on the small round table. When he got to the tram stop he already felt
more relieved.

But, the during the trip, images crowded his mind. His father's stern
face was the backdrop to all of them. He asked himself seriously,
deeply, for the first time, what he really felt about his father, Ubaldo
Crespi, the man who had given him life; and he became aware that the
emotions he was feeling were conflicted - desire to be loved, but also
fear; wish to communicate but an unsurmountable wall; desire of nearness
but solitude; admiration but fear; desire to please him, to be accepted
by him, but fear that he wouldn't be, that his father would judge him
not worthy...

He had always been well fed and dressed in the best way, but he had
never been given the right to his own choices. "Honor thy father and
mother" was the refrain - which meant do everything exactly as they tell
you; who do you presume to be to decide what is good, what is right?
What do you know about life? Therefore, do as your father tells you!
Nothing more, nothing less. This was the litany he had heard for years.

His tall, smooth forehead wrinkled when he closed his bronze colored
eyes. Against the darkness of his eyelids he shaped the image of his
father lying on his bed, rigid, among four lit candles. To test his
feelings he asked himself, "How much pain would I feel if, going back
home, I found him dead? Would I feel lost, in despair? Would I feel that
I had lost something precious in my life, lost it forever, as they say
it ought to be?"

This thought, this question, and even more the answer that he did not
dare express to himself, left him with a sense of guilt and confusion.
All he knew, all he had heard both at home and in his private school run
by priests, was that his father was to be honored respected, and,
therefore, obeyed. Just and only that, forever. So, when the answer that
he was supposed to give, "of course yes!" didn't come, Adriano felt he
was an unworthy son.

But now, in reality, now, he had another problem. "No, no!" he said to
himself, "My father would be the last person with whom to talk about
these things. And, anyway, everything I would have to tell him... he
would not be ready to listen to me, not in the least! Nobody can ever
talk with him... only listen to him. But he himself is not able to
listen, only talk. And his talks go only one way - you are with me or
against me! Ha! Him! He who won't listen, can't advise, that's clear."

One thing was sure: At any cost, Adriano wanted to put an end to the
pain and confusion that was tearing at his soul and at his body, too.
So, he said and repeated to himself, from that moment on, he, and only
he, would make decisions about his own life. He and only he would make
the final decision about how to live his own life. This was an
unyielding decision that he reached in spite of the pain and confusion
he had felt all morning. He would chose by himself how to live and,
therefore, how, when, and to whom he would express his love. He was
ready to fight for that, fight to his last breath. "After all, I am of
age, and this is 1997, almost in the twenty-first century! It is time I
take my life into my own hands, whether or not Dad is happy or not! It's
time to cut the umbilical cord!"

"If this is the way I am, this is the way I am!" But, he also felt he
needed someone to lean against, someone to understand him, to help him -
after all, as someone said, "no man is an island." - but it must be
someone who respected him, who wouldn't try to impose his point of view
on him. And who better than Father Gustavo? Even if he had borne that
weight with quiet resignation from puberty until this day, the problem
of what the correct way of life was had plagued him for years . Now, he
decided, he'd had enough. He wanted to breath, to live, to be himself.
Enough of the hand that guides! Now he wanted to make his own choices.
This decision resounded in his head like a big bell strongly tolling.

The truth that the boy had kept hidden inside himself, and more from
himself than from others, had now become so evident that he had to
recognize it. He could not compromise about it. He was attracted by men.
He was in love with a man! There was no doubt. He could no longer hide
that from himself. His desire for truth was stronger than for food, or
even for sex. It was basic, like the need for air. He could no longer
play hide and seek with himself!

The presence of such a huge desire overcame the youth. His parents had
never explained those facts of life which they were sure a boy didn't
need to know; so,  like a child, this young man with his wide shoulders
still had no basis to evaluate or measure his feelings. But he knew that
he finally had to understand himself. He was tired just sitting
passively, like a kid at the movies who hides his eyes behind his hand
when there is a scary scene, but who at the same time peeks between his
fingers: he'd had enough of only spying on his compelling feelings; he
wanted to understand them, to be master of them. He wanted to really
become an adult. It was time. Of course, to make a decision is always
easier than to carry it out. He knew that he needed loving help and he
was going to ask the only person he trusted.

That morning his decision resounded inside his heart almost like a
mantra. It was an Evangelical sentence just like the one Father Gustavo
had spoken this past Sunday during his sermon, "Truth will make you
free... only truth!" Yes, he believed that. Just the act of telling the
truth to himself and in a while to Gustavo, would have made him free;
yet he was afraid. Another sentence his young pastor often repeated gave
him the courage he needed "The only one force that can help us to live,
to really live, is love."

Oddly, the anxious decision about where to find information about the
problems that were oppressing his heart, about the desires he knew so
well and yet couldn't fully understand, had preoccupied the troubled
mind of the handsome young man for many weeks before that day. In the
beginning, Adriano had considered the possibility of putting his trust
in the young parson of his church. But then, a little natural common
sense, coming in part from those values instilled in him up until that
day from his father and mother, caused Adriano to consider whether it
would be wiser to conform to the known rules or to break them and enter
a completely unknown area. He was the eldest son, and charged with all
the responsibilities towards his family, especially towards his
brothers, that went along with that position in the family. He was the
one who one day it was presumed would take his place at his father's
side, and later would take his father's place altogether; so he had to
be worthy.

But Adriano soon realized that he could not find help or real advice
inside the Crespi family. All hell would have broken out if he had
allowed his father to see even the surface of his problems. That morning
he had at last made his final decision. He had said to himself, "Go
where you can be understood." So with determination, so different from
what his father would have expected of him, he was now on the tram going
to meet the only person who could really help him to understand, to
decide.

To Adriano, the apprehension he was feeling was made up of parts, like
pieces of a puzzle - fear and doubt, hope and determination - that were
agitating his handsome young face. But he was determined to show, most
of all to himself, that he was now grown up enough, he was enough of a
man, to face the childish torture that gripped his heart with a grip
colder than the icy wind that had been growing stronger ever since the
day had dawned.

The crowded tram went to the outskirt of town. It  ran out Malta Street
then turned on Marina Boulevard and stopped in front of the old
storehouse of the COOP. It was a Wednesday, a little past five, on a
cold December evening.

Adriano, standing near the exit, moved down to the first step and waited
impatiently for the driver to open the door. Finally, it creaked open
and he stepped down. Other passengers followed him and impatiently
passed the tall youth with slightly olive skin, who had suddenly stopped
after he had gotten out. The boy was still, his face oddly
expressionless. Even though his thoughts were greatly absorbed by his
worries, Adriano's eyes followed the people who swarmed out, dispersed
rapidly, and disappeared into the distance. The gray, empty, sad vision
of the bare trees on the boulevard he was looking at was, for a moment,
dimmed by the white cloud of his breath. He was now alone, and that
loneliness was joining with the loneliness that he felt in his heart.

Adriano was almost unaware of the rattling of the tram behind him that
was rapidly leaving. Slightly dazed, he shook his head, looking around,
and, for a moment, he almost thought he had gotten off at the wrong
stop. He couldn't recognize his surroundings, so gray, so empty, so
alien... And yet he knew this part of town well. He had lived here all
his life. Again, he shook his head, and finally started to see the
scenery as it had always been. Finally reoriented, the young man saw the
direction which he had to take.

A sudden strong gust of icy wind shook the boy. He rapidly pulled up the
fur collar of his leather jacket to protect his long neck. He readjusted
his books, fixed with an elastic belt, under his arm, and for a short
moment asked himself why he had left the tram two stops before home. But
then everything became clear again in his troubled mind. Taking the
street that crossed the boulevard almost in front of him, he rapidly
started going towards the church three blocks away, the church that he
and his family had always attended. His rhythmic and resolute pace
resounded in the empty street, sounding like a marching soldier.

Not so resolute now were the thoughts whirling slowly inside his mind
which was heavy and troubled by the frightening visions breathed over
him by generations of prejudice. He was vaguely aware that what he was
trying to achieve would cast him into a sea of problems; yet he still
struggled to really understand what would be best for him to do. He felt
he had to face too many heavy problems. And, though he seemed self
confident in his march towards the church, it was more because his body
was continuing by the force of his momentum, than because of his mind's
determination.

The icy wind was caressing his cheeks which seemed to recover some of
their natural color. Adriano climbed the few steps leading to the
parson's office. He rapped at the door and the knocks echoed inside his
heart like the gavel of a judge announcing his verdict.

"Who's that? Come in... come in!" Father Gustavo Cirasa yelled. He felt
slightly annoyed to hear the weak knocking at his door just as he was
about to take his coat from the hanger, ready to leave the office and
finally go back home. But, the tall, strong, athletic priest opened the
door anyway, ready to patiently listen to his umpteenth parishioner.
After all, a priest cannot really have a timetable, he must always be
ready to minister to his flock's needs and requests.

His face lightened like an Easter morning as soon as he saw, framed by
the door, the one who was asking to see him. He smiled widely at
Adriano, opening the door in an instinctive gesture of welcome. He at
once put his blue-gray tweed coat back on the hanger. His strong hand
seized Adriano's arm with unsuspected gentleness, pulled him inside and
pushed him to the center of the room. Closing the door, he turned
towards him with a warm smile.

Father Gustavo's smile at once brought an answering smile to Adriano's
face. In spite of the fact that the boy was still controlled by his
natural shyness, all his worries seemed to melt like snow in the sun.
Adriano's smile shone towards the young priest who had become the parson
of Saint Mattia only three years before. The human warmth radiating from
the young man who for so long had been Adriano's main hero, became a
source of protection that made Adriano forget for a moment all the
anxieties that pushed the boy to seek him out.

"Hey, young man, how's life?" The young priest's lips were open in a
warm smile filled with sincere friendship that beamed down on Adriano
like a balm. The young and incredibly handsome priest took one of the
boy's chilled hands in his own hands, holding it tightly and with warm
affection.

"Not so bad, Father." Adriano answered, calling the young priest by his
title as all the youths did. It was a kind of affectionate nickname.

"Very good, my friend." Father Gustavo said merrily, "It seems that
really the Lord's ways are mysterious. This is really a pleasant
surprise and I needed it. Today has been a bad day, you see. It started
with the plumber. I called him to repair a toilet but instead, he told
me that we have to redo almost all the plumbing; then the heating system
didn't work properly - possibly the filters need to be cleaned, I don't
know; and, last but not least, I got the news that the promised
financing to help the immigrants, you know the parish project for all
those poor, discriminated people, abandoned to themselves and organized
crime, has been withdrawn, God knows why... I felt really dejected. But
now here you are and I feel better just looking at you!"

The light and cheerful conversation of the young priest was suddenly
interrupted as he noticed the sharp, anxious expression in the clear
eyes of his young parishioner. Cautiously and with an attentive
expression, the young parson crossed his arms and looked up and down at
Adriano with a friendly expression, "Are you coming from home?" he asked
in a gentle and neutral tone.

"No... from the University. I stopped before my house, to come to meet
you."

Father Gustavo's smile was slowly fading away, as he sensed that the boy
must have a problem. He hadn't been aware of it at first sight; but now
he was seeing more and more sadness surfacing in Adriano's eyes and a
pain in Adriano's features that seemed to him too deep for a boy not yet
twenty years old. Adriano lowered his head and at once the man felt a
pang in his heart.

"Adriano, what's up? Tell me. What's happening with you? Would you like
to talk about it with me? It seems as though... as if you had seen the
face of death..." The beautiful man became silent for an instant, then,
with his big hand, he gently took the boy's chin and softly raised his
head so he could again look into his eyes.

For a long instant of silence the parson explored with a sense of pain
Adriano's eyes, trying to look into his soul and to understand what
could cause the boy so much trouble. With his other arm he hugged the
boy's shoulder trying to reassure him, to tell him without words that he
was in safe hands.

Then Father Gustavo gave words to his desire to help him. In a frank and
gentle tone he said, "So then, young man, put down everything and tell
me what is happening with you. You know that whatever it is, I'm here to
give you my hand, whatever the problem may be. I can't guess what
reduced you to this state... but you know that I will do all I can,
possible or impossible, to help you, to be near you. You know that's
what I'm right here for, don't you?"

Adriano, silent, anxious, still standing in the center of the office in
front of the worried priest, lowered his head again and shifted his
weight from one foot to the other. A mix of desperate emotions - need,
fear, guilt, hope - lowered onto his shoulders like a mantel of lead,
preventing him from doing what he most desired - simply to look into the
eyes of his young, tall, strong pastor, just to feel, to be sure that
Father Gustavo would be able to help him to find the solution to his
problems.

His chin trembled, and also his voice, "I... I... I need to talk to you,
Father." he exclaimed, feeling a strong urge to cry, "I really need...
need to talk you. It's terribly important."

A worried glance, showing all the deepness of his sentiments, crossed
the confused face of the young parson, "Of course, my boy... I
understand... sure... I see that... it must be something really
serious."

Adriano trembled from head to toe, afraid that, if he tried to say even
one more word, he would not only open the dam of his heart in a flood of
words, but he would give full vent to an unrestrainable river of tears.
He didn't want to cry, so he just clasped his lips and nodded a silent
yes. Adriano's eyes were filled with pain.

Father Gustavo's hand went back to Adriano's chin, then lightly caressed
his cheek, and he said gently, "Come on, buddy, don't be so scared.
Whatever it is, you'll see, we will settle it."

Then Father Gustavo threw a glance to the wall clock hanging in back of
his desk, between the frames of the pictures of John Paul II and that of
Mother Theresa of Calcutta.

The young priest suggested with such a light tone that it immediately
had the power to ease Adriano's pain, "Listen, my friend, the best thing
to do now, is to leave here before somebody comes and interrupts us.
It's the best thing to do..." Then, without even waiting for the boy's
answer, added, "Yes, come to my place, so we can talk without any worry.
All the time you need, you and me, alone, without any fear of being
interrupted. I will also turn off the telephone, all right? And then,"
he added with a friendly smile, "we can also fix something to have
supper together if you feel like it. Well, it's not that I'm such a
wonderful cook, but... I won't poison you. All right?"

Adriano at last found the strength to look at him again. His eyes met
those of Father Gustavo and on his face, slowly, a faint smile appeared
again, "Yeah. Okay." the boy said with the light, calm, certainty of
someone who relies on and completely trusts the other.

"By the way... do your father and mother know that you stopped here to
see me?" Father Gustavo asked with a cautious inquiring tone.

"Well, not really... no."

"Then, before going, wouldn't it be a good idea to call them and to tell
them so that they won't worry?" Father Gustavo suggested, pointing at
the telephone on his desk.

It was a gray dial telephone, a very old model that had known the hands
of many parsons. Father Gustavo didn't spend the parish money for
trivial things. For him, poor people and immigrants came before anything
else, even before a sacred vestment.

Yes. He had to make a call home. He could not miss supper without at
least telling his mother. With a short nod, Adriano showed that he
understood. In spite of that, his very slow approach to the desk filled
with papers, books, Bibles and the parson's correspondence, showed his
strong reluctance. The slender youth was staring at his long tapered
fingers while, almost with difficulty and so slowly, he dialed the six
digits. The wait lasted a few seconds. Adriano turned his back to Father
Gustavo and bent over the desk.

"Mum? ... Yes, everything is okay... I said that I'm okay... No, I just
called to tell you that something special came up so I'll be late... Ah,
no, I don't know the time... But no, it's nothing... just something I
have to verify, it's all... something, Mum... I'll eat out... But no,
Mum, no home work, it's the university now, Mum... Sure it's so... No,
I'm not forgetting that... What?... the TV remote? ... Of course I
haven't got it, why would I bring it with me?... No... ask Diego or
Lori, they possibly put it somewhere... perhaps they just forgot... Yes,
Mum... yes, I have the house key, don't worry... Yes... yes... see you
later..."

When Adriano stood up from the telephone and turned, he found Father
Gustavo sitting on the arm of the iron armchair. During the call, the
priest had been examining the worn out edges of his only winter coat.
But from time to time he had thrown glances towards his desk with the
corner of his eye. He had observed the boy's lanky body bending all the
time he had talked with his mother. Father Gustavo had gotten the
immediate and strong impression of a soldier worn out by being too long
on a battle field in a trench.

The man didn't only watch Adriano, but he also listened. He felt that
his young parishioner had been on the alert all during the telephone
call, tense, ill at ease. "Adriano, may I ask you something?"

"Of course, Father, what?"

"I don't want to seem nosy about your business, but... wouldn't it have
been simpler if you had just told your mother that you were stopping to
have supper at my place?"

Adriano's answer was too painfully honest to allow him to pull out
anything more than a whisper, "Oh no... it would have meant a flood of
questions, later..."

Father Gustavo stood up and again took his coat without saying or asking
anything more. He gave Adriano's shoulder a friendly slap and said,
"Good, my friend. Are you ready to face today's chilling wind?" and they
left.

-----------------------------

CONTINUES IN CHAPTER 3

-----------------------------

In my home page I've put some more of my stories. If someone wants to
read them, the URL is
http://andrejkoymasky.com
If you want to send me feed-back, or desire to help revising my English
translations, so that I can put on-line more of my  stories in English
please e-mail at
andrej@andrejkoymasky.com

---------------------------