The deficiency of luster was apparent in the curvature of his shoulders. He sat disheartened, his memory absconded, along with the compass of vast and ubiquitous sums. As morning approached noon, Benjamin found himself upon a weathered bench within the arbor refuge of Central Park. Along the roseate circumference of a tranquil pond, he intended to forgo obtrusive thoughts, and partake in an uninterrupted view of the sky.
And though his intention was to seek consolation within the pink solace of azaleas, a chocolate Sussex spaniel sought similar reassurance at his feet.
“Andiamo, Rocco.” A sagacious voice called.
The personable canine looked up, curiously, as did the de Gris Laurent heir.
“Andiamo, mangiare.” The voice called again.
The clever pup now stood attentively, its tail a wag.
Benjamin turned toward the ivory-haired gentleman as he approached.
“Mi dispiace,” the older gentleman would say.
“Non scusa necessario.” Benjamin interjected.
Though the gentleman evoked his native tongue out of habit, he was accosted unawares by the sullen gentleman’s linguistic astuteness.
“Grazie,” the gentleman would say. He knelt to affix a sable leash onto Rocco’s collar. “Tu sei Italiano?” He inquired.
“Americano,” Benjamin replied. “Though with French blood.”
Rocco sat attentively, gaze affixed upon its master, anticipating the promised feast.
“Our blood is the same,” the gentleman responded, with a smile.
“Is that so?” Benjamin inquired. He reached down to stroke the affable pup.
“The family of my grandfather,” The gentleman began. “From the hills of Provence.”
“I have 237,000 acres there.” Benjamin replied, in a casual manner. For the first time in some while, there was a smile in his eyes. His thoughts assuaged by the chocolate pup. And though the gentleman was alert, he did not understand. However Benjamin succumbed to his sophic guest, turning his attention toward the Italian stranger.
“Benjamin.” He said, extending his hand.
“Piacere. Sono Giancarlo.”
Implode. Part LXIII – DK