Fifty

“How does it taste? Is it good? Is it good?” Arrabella's eyes rounded, waiting for my answer. A smudge of flour was on her cheek, and some sauce splashed on her green apron with a cute little rabbit face.

I took her pasta again and ate it. Then I smiled.

"It tastes so good," I said, and took another. The sauce with the grilled meat and cheese was bursting in my mouth. "This would be enough for me to eat for a day. How did you learn to cook such delicious pasta?”

"My brother taught me how when I was twelve," she explained, wiping the smudge from her cheek.

"Arra? What are you doing—”

I stopped eating and looked outside the kitchen door. Zach was there carrying some paper bags, and our eyes met.

"Brother, you are here!" Arrabella exclaimed happily. She ran up to him and hugged him.

I was the one who looked away. I was astonished that he was here, and I don't know what to tell him. Was saying hi to him a good choice?

"What are you two doing?" Zach asked. "Here's the thing you're a