There was a huge, gray Ferrari in our quiet street, around half past eleven in the evening.
Under the windshield wiper was a wet note with original cock paws – apparently from a boy of around ten. Whether his mother, who had just had a birthday, could come along for a while.
She thought Ferraris were so beautiful and wanted to…
I was moved. But it’s a pity that the boy forgot to include his address or telephone number.
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