On a warm October evening, a surprisingly warm one, a young boy sat at the supper table licking the last bit of chocolate dessert from his fingers.
“Signora !” he called to the servant, the contractual help, “I want another cake!”
"But, bello ragazzo,” she playfully responded back, used to the child speaking to her after his parents left for their respective study with their respective alcohols, “there’s none left. You’ve devoured the last of the chocolate, like a true patriot.”
"But I want more, signora, s’il te plaît, un morceau en plus ! Avec du pomme !”
"One morceau encore, et c’est tout !” Ana responded pleased with his use of her native language which she had been trying to teach him, however manipulative it was.