Curate, connect, and discover
Eleonora sighed at the mess on the counter, the espresso machine that hadn’t been cleaned in days. When Eleonora had children of her own, they would certainly learn how to clean up after themselves. Not that Filippo was her child, but it certainly felt that way sometimes.
Setting about cleaning up, Eleonora dumped the dishes in the sink, wiping down the countertop and grimacing at the coffee stains on the tile.
“Oh.” A surprised voice behind her made Eleonora pause, glancing at the doorway to find an awkward-looking Elia wearing only a pair of boxer shorts and a shirt Eleonora knew was one of Filippo’s. “I didn’t think you’d be up.”
Shoving away her surprise at finding Elia in her apartment at nine in the morning, Eleonora shook her head.
“It’s after nine,” she said instead, crossing her arms and leaning back against the counter as Elia lingered in the doorway.
Keep reading