“Mazara,” Vito said in his inimitable one-word style. We had both arrived at the Café Amadeo at the same moment; I held the door for my friend and we walked to the table at the corner of the room. The barista appeared with our due espressi, one plate of cantucci, and another of orange slices. It all seemed so familiar and so permanent, although I knew – as did Vito – that my time to depart had arrived. I was due to board a train for Catania that very afternoon, to spend the night there and to train to Rome on the following day. We had talked about my departure before, particularly when I first thought I would have to go in July but stayed longer, reluctant to leave Vito and Mazara del Vallo.
due espressi,cantucci,What went unsaid throughout our many days together was my original plan to t
