THE banging of kitchen wares continues. Angelina and Bernardo glanced at their daughter who was peeking under the sink.
Mutya was in good mood this morning but it changed after her conversation with Nestor. The pans and pots started pounding each other and it has been for the last twenty minutes.
“Everything alright?” Angelina asked her daughter. She can no longer contain herself while watching the young woman make a one-man band in the kitchen.
Scowl etched on her face, the Mutya raised her head. She was holding a pan in her hand.
“Yes.”
“Do you want to talk about it? Is Basha alright?”
The glare on her face deepened. “She appeared to be okay, mama.”
“Is she coming today?”
“Her hands were full at the moment.” The pans hit the others again. “Did you see the casserole?”
The old
