“It’s odd,” I remarked. “Except for one detail, the story coincides point by point with what Ferlosio told me – as if, instead of telling it, they’d both recited it.” “Which detail is that?” “A minor one. In your telling (in Liliana’s, that is), when he sees Sánchez Mazas the militiaman shrugs and then he walks away. In mine (in Ferlosio’s, that is), before he leaves the militiaman looks him in the eye for a few seconds.” There was a silence. I thought the line had gone dead. “Hello?” “It’s funny,” Trapiello reflected. “Now that you mention it, that’s true. I don’t know where I got the shrug
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Story morphs by the teller
