A room of intersections.
The glasses didn't match. There was a stool and a dozen-odd chairs. Tablecloths of mixed widths and lamps from different rooms. It was small. It was tight. It felt safe and secret. It sounded very, very loud.
Fresh squacquerone to top pan brioche. Tiny round sandwiches wrapped in red, gold and gray. Escarole pie. Tortellini with broth. The chocolate dessert with the name I can't remember, but I remember who made it. Airy mounds filled with cream, chocolate sauce, chocolate flake. Neapolitan crunch sprinkled with silver and rainbow beads.