We are with the family at a restaurant. The food is brought. I do not know why, but I suddenly brush my hand against my neck when the plate with linguini is put in front of me.
‘Do you want me to bring you a bib, madam?’ asks the waitress.
I smile because this is usually something I make myself from napkins
whenever I eat some food with a lot of sauce, but I decline the offer.
The waitress wishes us to enjoy the food and leaves.
My nephew, sitting on my left, gets closer to me and whispers:
‘Eme, you’ve been around here, haven’t you?! It’s obvious because they
knew you wanted a bib.’
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