Testardi e Sciocchi

I don't know how these things start.

Somehow Simone and I (recall that our desks are right next to each other) started emailing. This turned into a staring contest of sorts: whoever talked first lost. Everything we've said since lunch has been by email (and we've said rather a lot). We've been relaying packets through a mail server in California to travel the meter-and-a-half between our computers. It progressed to the point that, when he left just now, instead of breaking the silence and losing, he wrote "Ciao, Iris!" on a piece of masking tape and held it up.