That's another kind of hell, but at least it's a comfortable one.″
Guido broke off. ″I don't know why I'm rambling on like this. You can't have understood a word.″
Momo just looked at him. What she understood, first and foremost, was that Guido was ill - gravely ill.
She suspected that the men in gray were at the bottom of it, but she had no idea how to cure him if he didn't want to be cured.
″I've done nothing but talk about myself,″ he said. ″It's high time you told me about your own doings.″
Just then the car drew up outside the airport terminal.
They all got out and hurried into the foyer, where a pair of uniformed stewardesses were already waiting for Guido.
Some newspaper reporters took pictures of him and asked questions,
but the stewardesses started fussing because there were only a few minutes left before take-off time.
Guido bent down and gazed into Momo's eyes, and suddenly his own eyes filled with tears.
″Listen,″ he said, lowering his voice so the others couldn't hear. ″Stay with me, Momo.
I'll take you along on this trip - I'll take you wherever I go.
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