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Tale of Sunday: "Widows" by Patrizia Emilitri Ruspa

Two dear widows, always with good words for everyone, wander through a village cemetery crowded with spirits of the deceased, outstanding bills and bunches of cheap flowers left on the graves of their loved ones. Patrizia Emilitri Ruspa, with direct irony, signs a story that is all a skirmish between still lively languages, which stop at nothing, not even in front of the threshold of the gates of the afterlife.

Tale of Sunday: "Widows" by Patrizia Emilitri Ruspa

Two dear widows, always with good words for everyone, wander around a village cemetery crowded with spirits of the deceased, outstanding bills and bunches of cheap flowers left on the graves of their loved ones. Patrizia Emilitri Ruspa, with direct irony, fir

"Who died?" 

"You do not know?" 

"Why, are you?" 

"Maybe." 

"There's a lot of people." 

“The whole country. Look at Angelina as she is dressed. And her daughter even worse, is she still a hairdresser? » 

«Yes, the hairdresser, in an always empty shop, but her man pays the rent and she waits for clients. What a fool! At least, I say, go elsewhere, but right here, where everyone knows that she tried to steal Fulvia's husband." 

)

“Well, he was the one who had to keep his pants up.” 

“But she shouldn't have tried to get them out of it.” 

«Signora Somma seems a little aged to me, don't you think? That dark coat of hers brings out the pallor of her face, with all that she drinks of her." 

"I'm told even her son doesn't visit her anymore." 

"Nice fellow, got the master's daughter pregnant and settled down." 

"Yes, he's got his hat on." 

"Sandro, on the other hand, look how straight he stands on his dry shoulders." 

«It is evident that he no longer carries the burden of his wife. She left a month ago, he says she went to her sick mother, but I don't think we'll see her again." 

"Don't stare at Nuccia like that, she's not well." 

"We're in a cemetery, I can look wherever I want." 

“The mayor's wife is there too.” 

"And the doctor's wife." 

"It must really be someone important, come on Lucia, tell me who it is." 

"I can't, they asked me not to attend the funeral, so I won't say who it is." 

"Right back at you?" 

“Then you know who died too, why did you want to know from me?” 

"Because it's not fair that we can't say goodbye to Irma one last time." 

"Who came to you, his son?" 

“Yes, she told me the family didn't want me to be there after what happened.” 

"If you hadn't said you saw your husband with another woman, nothing would have happened." 

«And if you hadn't told who the woman was, we'd now be together with Giulia, Rachele and Paola. Those three, who knows what they are saying about us. » 

"For all I care." 

“And look at all the roses on the hood. Where did they get so much money?” 

“Your son is a lawyer.” 

“Of my boots. Bruno went to him for a matter of inheritance and had to give everything to his brother. He said it was a case already won.” 

"However, I don't see Sandra." 

“It is not in good taste to go to the funeral of your lover's wife.” 

“That it could be your grandfather.” 

"How old was Irma?" 

«She said seventy, but for me it was long overdue. Now she can't escape anymore, her date of birth is engraved in the marble. » 

"Bend down, bend down, they're coming." 

“They all come this way.” 

"Of course, the exit gate is ahead." 

“Arrange those flowers. They are so ugly that your husband in the photo has lost his smile.” 

"And yours? White cyclamen. Your husband was hardly a young virgin.” 

"Lower your voice, ignore it. Irma's husband arrives.' 

"Stretch your neck and see if he's going off with the kids or she's waiting for him." 

"But do you really think I can see that far." 

"You're really getting old." 

"But you, you've already been years old." 

"Then I'll go and go out and look." 

«I'm going out too, I have to pick up my nephew from school. See you tomorrow." 

"I'm sorry about Irma, though." 

“Me too, I'm sure she would have wanted us at her funeral.” 

"Well, maybe, you know, she only told me last week that Raimondo was in the car with someone she'd never seen before." 

"But everyone knows, she's one of the towns that has a hosiery shop, her name is..." 

"For the love of God, Lucia, say no more, otherwise when Viola dies, Raimondo's wife, we won't even be able to go to her funeral." 

"You're right, these things are best left to the gossips at morning mass." 

"Already." 

* * * 

Patrizia Emilitri Ruspa is an accountant by duty and a writer by love. She lives near Varese with her family and her dogs. She is the author of many short stories, published in various anthologies, and novels: she has published with Macchione Editore, Edizioni il Vento Antico and Sperling & Kupfer. Her latest book, from 2018, is The little girl who found lost things

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