Diora
"Marco, you are being unfair!" I shot him a look from where I stood, checking the pasta that was beginning to boil. The older man, whose face was displayed on the screen of my phone that was strapped securely against my phone stand that was placed on the kitchen island.
He laughed.
"It's the truth, Tesoro." He countered me gently with a smile on his face.
"No!" I said vehemently. "I cook once in a while, you know?" I defended myself, placing my hand on my hip.
"Yeah, probably twice a year or so." He jeered.
It was the weekend and I hadn't had something homemade in a long time, so I decided not to eat out today. I wanted to eat something I prepared myself, and that was the reason I was making spaghetti and meatballs right now.
"That's not true!" my eyes widened.
"The fact that
