I reach out to touch his cheek and he catches my hand and presses it against his lips.

“Potresti vivere cento vite e ancora non lo meriteresti, lo sai?”

“I'm not good at talking about myself.”

“Then he talks about his recent success creating a musical chip that’s tiny enou…”

“Okay, maybe I don't go around loving everybody I meet, maybe my smiles are hard…”