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– I will not come! Marika was again near the door. – No, mom! I have not been a child for a long time. No, I said…

Her thin figure flickered in the doorway. Loose hair, a slip-on dress, only a dozen centimeters lower than her ass. He gritted his teeth and exhaled. It was worth looking at her long legs, at her toned hips, as it became tight in jeans. As if there was no that blonde with a cute face and plump cheeks. Irritated, I took another bite of the baguette. Marika turned around and finally saw me, fell silent for a moment.

– That’s it, Mom, – she said loudly and sharply. – I’ll call you later… I’ll call you myself… No… I’ll turn off the phone!

Apparently, she did not like what she heard in response, for she exhaled loudly. Displeasure was again reflected on his face, more likely even irritation and anger. For a moment her lips tightened, and then she spoke quickly:

– E cosa c’entra lui? Non e mio fratello! Allora… Qualcuno… non lo conosco e non voglio saperlo! Tutty. E io… Sì… Chiama… Lo prometto. (But what does he have to do with it? He is not my brother! So… Someone… I don’t know him and don’t want to know! That’s it. And I… Yes… I’ll call… I promise – translated from Italian.)