“I skipped breakfast, actually.”

He pushed a paper plate of broken biscotti across the counter.

“Then have two.”

The bakery smelled of anise and hot sugar.

A little radio played softly somewhere behind the bread rack, an old song I almost knew.

“Your boxes are still out in the hall,” Enzo said.

“You want the basement?

It’s been dry ever since I fixed the sump pump.”