When you turn your gaze back to your coffee something very small floats on the surface, so you lift the blue bowl and recognize ... a sailing ship.
You take a closer look and see small waves ripple, where the anchor chain meets the water, the ship rocks slightly, the flag - an Italian one - billows a little.
You close your eyes and think.
A noise makes you look up - it's Paul who, still sleepy, comes out of the house, stands next to you and strokes your hair.
You lean your head against him, catching sight of the green socks he always puts on, at some point during the night - strange, a man with cold feet.
Then he says, "Wow, look at that!", pointing to the hills.