[The doorbell rings]
Who is it?
Daniele. Come down, I’ve got something for you.
Can’t you come up?
No, come down.
[I go downstairs and out of the main door. Daniele is standing there in the midday sun, a cardboard box in his arms. He holds it out to me.]
Here you are. It’s for the anniversary.
Thank you. But you shouldn’t have.
Take it, take it.
[I take the box. It is the size of a shoe box but lighter than a shoe box with shoes in would be.]
What is it?
It’s for you. For the anniversary.
[Daniele starts up his Vespa and rides away. I stand in the midday sun and take the lid off the box. It is not sealed. I look inside.]
[Later, on the telephone.]
Thank you Daniele. What’s his name?
I called him Twenty-five. That’s how many years it is, isn’t it?
Yes, yes, twenty-five. It’s twenty-five.
[I stop talking and look down at the tortoise walking across the floor.]
Hello, Twenty-five. Here’s to us.