The only object in the room that remained perfectly still was a huge sofa, in which two pretty women floated like on a balloon tied to the floor. Both were dressed in white and their skirts rippled and flapped, as if they had just returned from a quick flight around the house. I remained motionless for a while, listening to the lashing of the curtains and the wheezing of a portrait on the wall. Then I heard an explosion. Tom had slammed the windows shut and the wind remained trapped inside the room. The curtains and the pretty white dresses slowly alighted on the floor. One of the women, the youngest, whom I hadn’t yet met, smiled at me. It was one of those smiles that at first seem directed at the whole world, but that then are revealed to be directed only at you, exclusively at you, and that create an unexpected and pleasant bond.