[MATURE CONTENT]
"Arancini isn't the most fascinating thing on the menu, Coniglia." he commented, taking a long sip from his glass of stark red wine. "You clearly have no taste."
I rolled my eyes, annoyed. "And what is it on the menu that surpasses...
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I strolled to the newly built bird fountain, grains and seeds in hand as I prepared to refill the feeder.
"Don't leave!" I whined, pouting when the birds perched on the tall slab of stone flew into the sky, twittering away at the sight of me. "Well," I sighed. "Maybe you'll come back now that I've got your food.
I tugged onto the oval-shaped feeder, the wood giving me a splinter. I groaned, sucking my finger to draw out the wood. When the stinging subsided, I spilled the bird food onto the empty tray, and let the branch raise back into the air.
Looking up at the tree, I admired the pretty birds. Feathered creatures stared back at me, black pupils blinking as they analysed my level of danger. I knew it was stupid, but I waved at them. They were so beautiful, red and yellow coloured Finches that always sang in the early hours of the morning.
I took a step back, allowing them their space to hover. As expected, the first bird flew down, settling itself onto the rod of the feeder. Snapping it's beak, it crooked it's head to eat the grains. When they deemed their surroundings out of harm's way, the rest of the flock followed, swarming around the feeder and nipping onto seeds and millet.
"At least you are feeding the birds," I turned my head, smiling at Antonio. "I must ask your parents to let you stay."
I laughed, shaking my head. "Don't worry. I'll teach Raffaele."
He nodded, walking over to the tree to commend the little birds.
Leaving him, I made my way to the garden shed, where the bird food was kept. The mosaic glimmered in the distance, and I regarded how Raffaele was almost finished. The corner of the wall was the only area missing tiles.
As I stepped closer, I was able to make out the image he was building—it was a kaleidoscope of butterflies, all of different colours, all of different sizes.
I gazed in awe when I reached it.
The shed door creaked open, feet shuffling beside me. But I wasn't aware of them.
"What do you think?" He asked me.
My mouth stayed open, twisting my face to look at him. "What do I think?" I blinked, before exclaiming loudly, "I think it's amazing!"
His eyes widened, blush creeping up on his face. "Ah, thank you..." He cleared his throat, hands on his hips, skin turning scarlet.
As always when he worked on his mosaic, Raffaele wasn't wearing a shirt. The sweat slipped down his body, glistening, and dust equally stained his olive skin.
