Chapter I Alcideâs book
He put on his half-lens glasses. He didnât like doing It so he always did it away from prying eyes - a form of modesty as if it was a defeat, a price to pay to have to do this during old age. For the rest though, apart from this presbyopia which accelerated year after year, Alcide was in good shape. His heart, prostate, and intestine did their duty and even his lungs (taking into account that he was a chain smoker), didnât cause him problems apart from bronchitis that yearly, between January and February, forced him to rest. His doctor was an old pro who was very tried and disappointed with life. After his graduation he was expecting some satisfaction from his job which didnât come. He did his work but he was bored of his patients, especially the elderly who crowded his studio more to spend time with him than for real medical need. His secretary, on the other hand, was very efficient. Throughout the years she gained a competence which allowed her to give pharmacological tips. Anna answered the phone which rang constantly, prepared prescriptions, managed doctorâs appointments with meticulousness: she knew and called everyone by their name, just like a country priest. Actually she was a 45 year old divorced lady, who struggled to surrender to the passing of time and so often she flaunted mini-skirts and fishnet stockings which Alcide considered silly. That morning, sitting in a bar, isolated from the other elderly of the village who spent their days at that same bar, Alcide was enjoying spring. Mimosa was already in bloom, but this had no meaning for someone who knew weather better than aeronautics. Alcide knew very well that winter wasnât over yet and so he sat at his table without too many illusions. Others in the bar were drinking or playing cards but he loved to take the time to read a book alone. He wasnât taciturn or surly, but rather he enjoyed his own company, his own thoughts and memories. In the attic, buried amongst trinkets, he found a book which he remembered reading a few years earlier. The book was about the stories of famous champions from Pelè to Borg, from Thoeni to Cassius Clay. But his favourite chapter, was the one about Fausto Coppi. Alcide ordered a coffee and began to read. The Heron who flew on his bike
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