He was an exemplary police officer, but even he used to sneak away to smoke a cigarette away from his responsibilities, and there wasn't much to do. That day, the streets of Florence seemed particularly quiet; it was the 1950s, after all.

Being a police officer brought him a bit of attention; young Italian ladies liked guys in uniform, or so his colleagues thought, and sometimes even he himself, judging by the way the ladies smiled shyly around him.

"I'm so sorry." The slight bump on his foot accompanied by the soft apology made him lift his head from his comfortable position. He was sitting on the steps of a square, and maybe it was the warm spring sun, or perhaps the surrounding architecture, or it could have been the long, curled lashes that drew attention to the closed eyes of the woman. A delicate woman, everything about her exuded elegance and kindness, not to mention her expensive clothing. Porco was fascinated.

"Do you need help, miss?" he asked as he stood up immediately. It was his duty as a police officer to assist a helpless and very lovely blind woman, wasn't it?. The truth is that it was just an excuse, who knows, maybe to be a "hero" for her.