Class         painting

Walter has dated all my friends. I skipped my turn because he said I was garbage. "Garbage", that’s exactly what he said. It wasn’t nice of him. What can you do?

But it’s not true that I’m garbage, because I have more than just a few sources telling me that I’m pretty, prudent, and I also can be witty (at times). An optimist, after all.

The sources? That’s easy: first of all, aunt Adelaide, then Orsola, our housemaid, which is a bit lame, but extremely intelligent; and then Professor Petrella (4th floor, stair B). He’s from the South, but is very clean. We once met on the staircase and he asked me if I would be so kind to touch him. I was in a hurry, since I had a piano lesson. "About how long will it take, more or less?"

"More or less ten minutes."

"All right, then."

In the end, Professor Petrella said that I was obviously a beginner, but he said I had a classy touch. And, in all honesty, that was a nice thing to hear, because class is class!