Papa approached my mother: "Miss Dora, a drink to celebrate your arrival?"
My mother, looking at Ernest Hemingway's sarong, frowned, gave a short sigh. Then: "Yes, thank you. To celebrate the arrival," she said with a smile.
"Lunch will be ready soon," Mary announced cheerfully. "Shark fin and platanos* soup with..."
I didn't hear the rest. I was looking at Luigino. Who sat in an armchair, deeply, peacefully asleep.
Like Black Dog.
* cooking bananas
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