Page 62 of Mario
“She was a firm believer in food. And rest. In that order.” He unwraps the paper bag, and the scent of garlic and herbs fills the office. "Lunch."
I look at it.
Then at him.
“It’s 4:30.”
“Then it’s very late lunch or early dinner. Take your pick.”
“I ate.”
His gaze dips to the protein bar.
“That is not food.”
“It has eighteen grams of protein.”
“It’s sad."
Despite myself, I feel a smile tug at my lips. “My protein bar is sad?”
“Yes,” he says, completely serious. “It is the food of people who have forgotten how to live. My mother would cry.”
He pulls out a cardboard container. Steam escapes, carrying the most glorious smell of melted mozzarella I have ever encountered.
I don’t remember the last time I ate a hot meal that wasn’t made in a microwave.
Or the last time I was hungry for something other than a win.
“What is it?”
“A panino,” he says. “From a little place downtown. No one makes them better. Prosciutto, mozzarella, tomato, and a pesto that will make you weep.”
I might actually weep once the smell fully hits me. I am not sure it will be from the pesto.
“You are very persistent.”
“I have three brothers,” he says, as if that explains everything. “Persistence was a survival skill.”
There it is again. A small piece of the world they came from. A hint of the complicated Naples Diego spoke of.
I close my laptop with a soft click. “Okay.”
He looks pleased. “A wise choice.”
He divides the sandwich, which is on bread that looks like it was baked by angels, and hands me half.
I have had three conversations today about user permission protocols. I have stared at spreadsheets until the numbers began to swim. I have argued with a woman in payroll about why she shouldn’t have access to the security division’s incident reports.
And Lorenzo Conti just showed up with a panino.
I have never, in my entire career, been brought a panino.
I bite into it.
The bread is crisp on the outside, impossibly soft within. The prosciutto is salty, the mozzarella warm and creamy, the pesto bright with basil and garlic. It is, without question, the best thing I have put in my mouth in years.
I close my eyes.
