Even though Rubiella had long since grown up, the moment I saw her standing in the doorway of her room, clutching an old, worn-out toy in her hands, for a moment it seemed as if my little Ruby was standing in front of me again. That tender, touching image came back to me.
But, of course, it was only a momentary illusion. Time marched inexorably forward, and I knew that I was looking at a completely different person.
I stared at Rubiella, who was now seventeen years old. Her face had become more elongated, her cheeks had noticeably thinned, and her gaze had acquired a new depth — the gaze of an adult woman, in which one could discern the wisdom born of life experience. She was no longer just a cute girl with chubby cheeks, whose laughter rang carefree throughout the house.
Her gently lowered amethyst-colored pupils were dazzling. Every time she blinked, her eyes, reminiscent of the night sky, disappeared and reappeared many times.
