My Lovely Picnic Tryst with Formaggio and Paul

After my fascinating encounter with Sam last night, I thought that he was the one who stood knocking at my door at 5 o'clock in the morning. It was cute and tender Paul instead.

"I miss you," he said in his Italian innocent diction. Aside from his fine looks, I spotted the white basket he was carrying.

"Formaggio," he analyzed my mind and countered on the question. It felt fine that at least I recognized what Formaggio means. I didn't have to look all so absurd in front of this lovable, intelligent person in front of me.

"Would you like to have a picnic with me and taste the distinct formaggio I brought for you?" Paul managed and struggled to say in his strong boyish Italian accent.

Paul took me to a tranquil water in the suburbs. Then, he laid out the picnic blanket and set all the formaggio he had lifted along with him in his white basket. I was amused with the wide collection of cheese he brought. There's blue cheese, cream cheese, white cheese, cow cheese, goat cheese, garlic cheese, and processed cheese, although my favored kind is the extravagant cream cheese. It's chewy, supple, and good to the senses -- exactly like Paul.