The exterior of the Ilustrado looks more of an ancestral house than a restaurant. Its vintage vibes and aesthetic make me feel as if I’m currently living during the Hispanic era. The scrumptious smell of Spanish cuisine bursts through the air the second we set foot inside. Rectangular desks with white table cloth are arranged beautifully across its decent-size space. Out of all Mr. Cobalt’s guests, it’s Chaz that he’s the most hospitable to. He directs us to the center most part of the room and sits next to Chaz while my mother sits next to me. The mumbling noise from the other people are a lot quieter than the one back in the theater. Mr. Cobalt keeps on giggling while saying some things to Chaz. Chaz, on the other hand, keeps on responding by bobbing his head. I angle my gaze to my mothe
