LunarGirl2z

           Pasta.  That was the first thing that awoke a certain Italian one summer morning.  Wearing a white T-shirt and light blue shorts, Italy sat up with a sleepy-head face and a hair always curled up and smelled the scent of his favorite meal.  “Ve~, he's making breakfast again.  He's so sweet to me.” Cheerfully (while partly asleep), he hops out of his bed, walks out of his room, heads downstairs, and steps into his kitchen where he was greeted by a young Italian boy.  As soon as their eyes met, the little one calls out, “Oh, ciao Italy!  The pasta is almost ready to eat.” “Aww, grazie Prato.” Italy