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So I spot her—red heels, smokin’ a cig, leanin’ on a lamppost. I’m nervous, sweatin’ like a pig, mutterin’ to myself, “Can you hear me?”—straight outta the movie, ya know? She smirks, “What’s your deal, old man?” I laugh—hoarse, loud—cuz she’s got sass! I like that. “Just lookin’ for company,” I rasp, “not a billionaire, promise!” She rolls her eyes, “Good, they tip like shit.”

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Anyway, I head to the lab on Via San Giovanni. It’s a cozy little spot, but today it felt like a sauna. I walk in, and my colleague, Marco, is already there, looking like he’s seen a ghost. Turns out, our experiment went haywire. I mean, we were trying to grow some bacteria, and instead, we created a mini monster. I’m talking about something that looked like it belonged in a horror movie.

Obituary | Frank Avella of Londonderry, New Hampshire