VIOLETA
It is morning, and my man has not yet come back since last night. I have been trying to get a hold of him, but the call goes in vain. I feel fresh and so much better than yesterday, and I just made the scrumptious breakfast, well, it is just a simple breakfast, but because I hardly cook breakfast since I gave birth to my pumpkin upstairs, I made some Frittata and set up the table.
“Mmm, it smells good in here. Let me guess; you made your favourite — Frittata for breakfast,” My mother says as she enters the kitchen, holding a needleless syringe. We use it to give Dante his medication.
I smile and kiss her cheek before she passes me, going to the sink.
“You know me too well, mama. Uhm, would you like to taste my sauce?” I happily ask her.
I am so happy that my mother is here
