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Katerina’s Point Of View
I paced around our bedroom restlessly, pursing my lips and occasionally folding my arms, irked and frustrated but understanding of Amy’s position on the matter of not despatching her kidnappers.
My frequent glances from our bedroom window in my son’s apartment across the Piazza wouldn’t be noticed by any observer outside, not that I cared much. I would solve this problem in the usual way, but I needed to find a means to do that without harming my relationship with Amy.
My lover seemed mildly amused by my agitation, seeing this condition in me often, usually before a scene I was heading toward culminated in violence.
“You are a caged tiger at times like this, my love. Pacing, drooling hungrily and with crazy eyes.”
“You just described my period.”
“You have the instincts of a killer at all times, dear, not only during a full moon or for the week when your cycle turns blood red.”