She turned her head back toward the lamp, seeing his reflection stepping into her tiny living room in a small, framed photo of her grandparents on the side table. She turned the photo. Nuncio stayed close to him, obviously irritated with his boss. Carlos was also standing beside Nuncio, and he also looked irritated.
“You need to eat.”
She lifted her piece of toast and took a bite of it and then tossed it back on the plate. “There I ate, go away.”
He dropped the bag of food on her lap. “Eat the pasta.”
“If I eat the pasta, will you leave?” She was trying not to cry now, willing to do anything to encourage him to leave her in her misery.
“Yes,” he promised taking a seat on the sofa across from her, his hands folded between his knees and staring intently at her.
She ignored his gaze, r
