Manzo alla Sarda

Previously

…Outside, the rain had stopped. The night was cool and clean, the city shining with reflections. Giovanni stepped out into the street, tucking the letter safe into his coat. He paused, looking back at the restaurant—its windows aglow, its warmth spilling gently into the dark. He set out, boots splashing softly, the slip of paper and the promise of recipes singing quietly in his pocket. Tomorrow would bring lists and tickets, phone calls and goodbyes. But tonight, there was only the light inside, and the road ahead—a thread of memory leading home.