Linguini and Lies
At the moment I’m writing a story entitled Linguini and Lies, here’s a snip-it from my 1st draft:
“I quietly opened the door of my bedroom, I could hear Mama and Papa arguing in rapid Italian downstairs. We lived in Rome, Italy, but I still only knew 3 words in Italian after living there my whole life, but that was because Mama and Papa were originally from Connecticut, and sent me to an English-speaking school. I wondered what they could be talking about, Maybe a new Ravioli Recipe, Papa was always coming up with new ones, because we owned, and ran, the pasta shop downstairs.”
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