The Translation Of Father Torturo - Plot & Excerpts
His hairline was much too low down on his forehead, and his countenance, if seen at close proximity, bore the unhealthy lustre of face paint. He walked across, through the door opposite and the kitchen area beyond, which was stacked high with sacks of flour and sugar. His half finished cappuccino was still sitting on the table of the mirror lined shop. He picked it up and drained it in a swallow, smacking his lips at the bitter-sweet flavour. “How much?” he asked, approaching the counter. “One euro, fifty.” He handed the shop attendant a five euro bill and received the change. “Grazie.” “Grazie a lei.” He observed the chocolates ranged in the glass showcase below and, as he moved towards the exit, lingered at the freezer near the door, noting the sorbet stuffed lemons and oranges within, as well as the bright ice-cream, sculptured into red roses and small yellow ducklings. “Anything else I can get for you?”
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