The following day I wake up with the most excruciating headache of my life. I feel like they are beating drums inside my head. I walk downstairs to find something to help make the pain go away. I walk into the kitchen to find Mrs. Costanzo making breakfast. She makes breakfast sometimes but most days the maid does it.

'Good morning, Katherine," I say, taking my seat on one of the stools in the kitchen. Mrs. Costanzo prefers for me to call her by her first name.

'Good morning, ...