How We Met

"That guy is Italian," Fredric proclaimed as a good looking guy with brown hair walked past us.
"How do you know?" I queried. Thinking Fredric could tell simply by seeing this stranger pass in front of us what his country of origin was.
"He's Italian," he said more emphatically.
"How do you know?"
"He's Italian. He's Tuscano. Ask him."
Those of you that know me, are aware that walking up to a stranger rarely gives me pause. So I did. I walked up to this handsome young man and asked, "Are you Italian?"
"Yes" came his reply.
This was not a boring, flat yes. This was a yes imbibed with an accent of the land of my ancestry. Whoa, he really is Italian I thought. We talked for a few minutes and then went our separate ways. Neither one of us thinking too much about the encounter. That was, until the next day.