“What is this place?” I asked as I finally looked up from my writing book. My brother looked at me through the car window and chuckled, not surprised at all.
“Now she talks! I could’ve sworn that you died back there.” he said with amusement, and opened the car door for me. He ruffled my hair. I rolled my eyes at him, but couldn’t help but smile back.
My family, the Martina’s.
How my parents met was simple. My dad, was from Colorado, Victor Mason Martina, and my mom was from Verona, Italy, her name was Maria...
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