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    The baby was crying in the successivo room, and I followed the noise. It was such a weak cry, I wasn't sure I liked what I heard anymore. My Amore for Regina had not changed, had not shrunk nor grown. The flaming fuoco was strong in my gut, and as I crossed the threshold into my infant's bedroom, it was fed da the oxygen of her sweet, yet small wails. I bent over the railing of the culla, presepe and stared down into the baby's eyes. They were small, frightened brown puddles. They were not the eyes of me o Derick. She was the loner in a lonely world, and I had to protect her....