My First Time with Roberta: The Rainy Afternoon That Shattered My World
Rain hammered the windows of Roberta’s tiny apartment in Céret. Every Sunday, I’d slip away from my dead marriage, kids glued to cartoons, wife scrolling her phone. The cemetery was our spot first. There, amid graves, I’d met her. Eighty-two, fragile, *a little cross shining at her ear*. Her Catalan murmurs drew me in. We…