Chapter Thirty-Five

I use my fork to move the food around the plate, so I can create the illusion that I'm eating when I haven't had a single bite.

I know it's bad. My mother always taught me to never play with food, it's disrespectful. I'm aware of all this, but whenever I'm surrounded by the Puglias, I lose my appetite. It isn’t my fault, it just happens. And it has been this way since I got here, and I don't think this feeling will ever pass. It’s the disgust that I have for Giotto, and while I hate him and wish him ill, I’ll never be able to sit at his table, and eat his food.

Everyone's silent. If Giotto doesn't say anything, then no none will. Gustavo takes a few bites of his food, but he never eats much either. I guess we're both in the same boat. We're both here out of better options. It’s good to have someone to have something in common with. Rather, it justifies my feelings. For if his son hates him, how can’t I?

Giotto looks up and clears his throat, "I have an announcement to make. Tomorrow