I'm going to improv a story now using only a 2 word phrase I wrote recently on a post it note.
Samuel was a thin, sick man. The deep creases and dark emptiness on his face told lies of old age that only the year of his birth could confound. For years, he was the most important man at the most famous restaurant in three counties. He folded the tortellini. On his deathbed, he was often heard to say things like "I don't regret any of my choices," and "I can die in peace knowing I lived my life to the fullest."
But just as the appearance of his skeleton face told lies, so did he. Years of doughy, paste-crusted fingers, endless bowls of spinach, beef, and cheeses. This was what his life amounted to, and nothing more. The bold statements he told on his deathbed were a blanket to keep him safe from the truth which he could not accept for himself, nor reveal to others. He was ashamed of himself.
People said the tortellini at Spinuccio's was the best, because it was so carefully handmade, and each tortellini was stuffed with the optimal quantity of beef, cheese, or spinach. The flavor was said to explode in one's mouth with such intensity that you could feel the passion Samuel used to fold each individual one. But really, Samuel cared little for the work; it was all he had--he owed a significant financial debt to the owner of Spinuccio's that he could never repay even with a lifetime of work. The supposed passion came simply from the story printed on the front of each Spinuccio's menu: "the flavor of Italy is in each bite, placed there by the passion only an Italian could know."
Samuel was in fact not Italian; he was of mixed German and French lineage. Perhaps there was some Greek in there too, but it was only a rumor amongst his grandparents.
His debt to Mr. Bjorn, who refused to be addressed by any other title, came from a sizely loan he needed to woo Darlene, who died in a car accident shortly after a successful wooing. The money wasted, Samuel was left to repay a debt that forever reminded him of the women he loved and so quickly lost.
But now, close to death, his fingers too weak and lacking the dexterity to fold a single tortellini, he tried to pretend it was all worthwhile.
