Having Fun {Virgil and July}
"Yeah. I mean, there are buses, but I can assure you, they’re never on time and they take three times as long as taking a cab." She made her way over to the cabs and stepped into the first one of the line, waiting until Virgil had gotten in as well before letting the cabbie know where they were going. "Pier 33 please."
As they drove off, July turned towards Virgil again, ready to continue their conversation where they had left off. “Somehow, I seriously doubt that I’m a better cook. Like I just said, I searched the whole of the internet to find recipes that I can actually make and won’t get sick from. If I had been allowed to eat pasta, I would’ve eaten that five times a week.”
Virgil knew all about shitty public transportation. He used to ride his bike everywhere when he was younger, but here on the crazy hills of San Francisco, he would die going uphill. As he got in the cab, he peered out the window, taking in the west coast scenery. It felt the same as Boston.
"Pasta has to be the best thing I can make. It's also the easiest." The perks of being Italian and Irish, in Virgil's mind. "It's thee only recipe my mom taught me because she knew that I wouldn't mess it up." And yet, he did in the beginning. He had managed to burn the noodles and he nearly burned the place down. He's gotten better since then, at least he hopes he has.












