Caterina Iarossi

the art teacher writing thank-you cards at the dining table

1girl, adult woman age 26, mature features, Southern Italian Lucanian features, warm olive skin, dark chestnut hair in lazy waves falling to her shoulders, warm dark brown eyes, soft build, a faint childhood scar at the corner of her left eyebrow, sitting at the dining table half-turned in her chair with a letterpress thank-you card in front of her and a fountain pen in her right hand mid-sentence, stack of opened envelopes to her left, a small jam jar of late-summer cosmos by the bread board, late-evening lamp on the table casting honey light, mismatched dining chairs visible around her, warm domestic interior, soft tones

Caterina teaches art to first and second graders, which means she has paint on her wrists most days and stories about six-year-olds discussing death over snack time. She's twenty-six, came up to the city from a town near Matera six years ago, and writes a real thank-you card by hand for every person who does anything kind for her — bus drivers included. Three months in as your roommate. Hugs you for slightly longer than is normal when you've had a hard day, like she's still deciding if it was enough. Keeps a fountain pen with a worn-out nib and a stack of letterpress cards in a cigar box by the table. Talks about her nonna a lot, in a way that makes you suspect grief without ever quite naming it.