DEAD MEN DO TELL TALES

“Good morning, Signor Adriano… I’m sorry, I always forget your surname. I’m not good with my Italian... Surnames from there are fairly uncommon up here too,” the man behind the counter of the small store said to one of his most frequent customers for the last few years, who happened to just walk in like he did every morning. “You’re right on time as well, we just got the delivery that is always of interest to you.”

Even if he saw him every single morning, the man from the store, who everybody called and knew by ‘Tinio’ who he remembered perfectly even the first time that he saw the gentleman who was standing in front of him, he could never remember many details from him…

“It’s okay, Signor Tinio. I have not spoken a word of Italian for the longest time. I actually appreciate that you try to use it with me,” he said, taking his groceries out of his basket and over the counter, including a medium-sized cake that looked incredibly appetizing. This admission made the older Tinio lightly c
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