He had a red chequered tablecloth and even proper coffee cups.
Not tin cups like the ones at home. He said an old black woman came every day to tidy up when he went to work.
If you like, dunk your bread in the coffee like this. But don’t slurp when you take a sip. It’s bad manners.
I looked at Pinkie, but he was as quiet as a ragdoll. “What?” “Nothing. I’m listening.”
Look, Pinkie, I don’t like arguments, but if you’re upset you’d best say so now.
It’s just that all you do now is play Portuguese and I can’t join in.
I thought about it. Of course. It hadn’t even occurred to me that he couldn’t join in.
In a couple of days we’re going to meet Buck Jones. I sent him a message through Chief Sitting Bull.
Buck Jones is far away, hunting in the savannah... Pinkie, is it savanna or savannah?
I’m not sure. Next time I go to Gran’s, I’ll ask Uncle Edmundo.”
Silence again. “Now where were we?” “Dunking coffee in bread.”
I laughed. “You don’t dunk coffee in bread, silly.”
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