At the memory, Stella felt her stomach lurch. She’d never been able to abide being around people vomiting, but then again, she assumed only insane people would be okay with it. Taking a breath, she felt glad that she had the car to herself this time. She opened the windows and blasted Radio Subasio, singing along with Cher. It never failed to amuse her how much 90’s American pop played on Italian radio stations.
After barely three songs, she turned into the parking lot. First things first. She swung by the pet store to pick up Domenica’s cat food. Looping the handles of her tote bag over her shoulder alongside her purse, Stella continued to the bakery, following her phone’s directions into the center of Assisi. She stopped outside the door, stepping back to take in the bread in the window
