The morning sun filtered through the buildings, illuminating Nicoletta's red hair as she fiddled impatiently with the keys in the lock of her old car. She was wearing a pair of white sneakers, an explosion of color that contrasted with the dull gray of the bodywork. Shoes were her passion, a way to express her lively and slightly rebellious personality. Today, however, her attention was entirely focused on the engine that persisted in running poorly.
After 10 minutes of driving, here she was, stopped in a parking lot.
Come on, old wreck, don't make me late! Nicoletta muttered, turni...

The morning sun filtered through the buildings, illuminating Nicoletta's red hair as she fiddled impatiently with the keys in the lock of her old car. She was wearing a pair of white sneakers, an explosion of color that contrasted with the dull gray of the bodywork. Shoes were her passion, a way to express her lively and slightly rebellious personality. Today, however, her attention was entirely focused on the engine that persisted in running poorly.
After 10 minutes of driving, here she was, stopped in a parking lot.
Come on, old wreck, don't make me late! Nicoletta muttered, turning the key for the umpteenth time. A gasp was the only response. Cursing to herself, she began her battle against the recalcitrant engine. She revved, pressed the clutch, turned the key again.
Finally, after a last, desperate attempt, the engine started with a liberating roar. A triumphant smile spread across Nicoletta's face. She adjusted the rearview mirror, glanced at her sneakers as if to recharge her batteries, and took off with a screech of tires, leaving a trail of smoke and the echo of her laughter.
Today, too, she had won her daily battle. And with her trusty sneakers on her feet, she felt ready to face any challenge the day had in store for her.

Il sole del mattino filtrava tra i palazzi, illuminando la chioma rossa di Nicoletta che, con aria spazientita, armeggiava con le chiavi nella serratura della sua vecchia utilitaria. Indossava un paio di sneakers bianche, un'esplosione di colori che contrastava con il grigio spento della carrozzeria. Le scarpe erano la sua passione, un modo per esprimere la sua personalità vivace e un po' ribelle. Oggi però, la sua attenzione era tutta rivolta al motore che si ostinava a girare male.
Dopo 10 minuti di guida eccola ferma in un posteggio.
Dai, vecchia carretta, non farmi fare tardi! borbottò Nicoletta girando la chiave per l'ennesima volta. Un rantolo strozzato fu l'unica risposta. Imprecando tra sé e sé, iniziò la sua battaglia contro il motore recalcitrante. Sgasava, premeva la frizione, girava di nuovo la chiave.
inalmente, dopo un ultimo, disperato tentativo, il motore si avviò con un ruggito liberatorio. Un sorriso trionfante si aprì sul volto di Nicoletta. Sistemò lo specchietto retrovisore, lanciò un'occhiata alle sue sneakers come per ricaricarsi di energia e partì sgommando, lasciando dietro di sé una scia di fumo e l'eco delle sue risate.
Anche oggi aveva vinto la sua battaglia quotidiana. E con le sue fedeli sneakers ai piedi, si sentiva pronta ad affrontare qualsiasi sfida la giornata le avesse riservato.