I sit on a suede couch next to Joanci and am in the middle of telling a story about where I will be living in the fall to Jo, when the buzzer sounds. Joanci, thinking its her alarm clock, meanders into her bedroom, but the buzzer sounds again. I look at Jo. Its the door, which opens to the voice of a woman's rapid Italian. I can pick out two words: Jehovah's Witnesses. I see Joanci's spine crinkle: No speak Italian.
Oh you're English? Do you have a Bible?
A pamphlet is passed and the door shuts.
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