It was a dull and stormy night; the rain hitting the ground like bullets with the occasional sweep of wind causing chaos throughout the city. I stared out the window as the few passer-bys fought their way home, struggling against the torrential weather. I was glad to be inside, warmth surrounding me, the beautiful robust smells of the kitchen floating about th- "Closing time, Petit Chef." Colette spoke, bringing me out of my episode. I threw a glance at the clock – 10:45. Today had flown by very quickly indeed.

Linguini appeared out of almost no where, took one look out the window and gulped.

"Man look at that weather.. I knew walking to work today was a bad idea." My ears pricked up. Walked? WALKED? I had left the apartment earlier than usual this morning to get a head start, and to be fair it was an alright morning. But we all knew heavy showers were forecasted for later on, trust Linguini to take an avoidable risk like that. Colette frowned, rolling her eyes at Linguini.

"I told you so. Guess we'll just have to brave it."

Five minutes later and Colette had just finishing locking the door, her lanky partner standing to the side of her in the rain, hair dripping already. I scrambled over as fast as I could to him as not to get too wet, running up the side of his trouser and shirt and jumping into his pocket. It was soaked already. Colette glared at him. "I also told you to bring a jacket with you this morning. Eurgh, do you ever listen?"

Finally we made it back home. We were currently living in the big apartment that Linguini owned, with Colette too. She had only moved in a few months ago, even though her and Linguini weren't married. I crawled out from Linguini's pocket and scurried along the floor, jumping onto my windowsill. The view from the window was beautiful, the Eiffel tower standing tall and majestic in the gloom, the rain seeming to make it twinkle.

"Here." Linguini was startled by a brown fluffy towel hitting him in the face. He saw Colette falling onto the bed beside him. "This month has been hectic." She sighed, rubbing her eyes. "Bonne nuit. Chéri. Sleep well." She had already changed and was beginning to snuggle down into the bed clothes. Linguini rubbed his eyes too.

"You're er, going to bed now?" He said glancing at his watch. Colette made a muffled yawn.

"Of course. I'm tired, and we have work tomorrow. It would be a good idea for you to sleep too.." And with that she was lost to sleep. Linguini was still wet from the rain, so he went to the closet and pulled out a fresh shirt and some old jeans. I could see him coming down the stairs towards me, so I squeaked to get his attention. His face lit up.

"Hey little chef. Are you hungry?" I nodded appreciatively.

Sometimes there was no changing Linguini. He had decided to be lazy and just cook a pot of ready made noodles into the microwave, much against my recommendation of Bolognese.

"Sorry pal. I just don't feel like cooking tonight. I'm really tired, y'know? Er.." I shrugged. Fair enough. The poor guy had been working non stop all week, since La Ratatouille had been strangely busier than usual. His face was beginning to loose it's glow and his eyes were beginning to sag. Any further and he'll look like Ego, I chuckled to myself. We moved from the kitchen into the large open hallway, which was also the front room. Slouching down on the couch he relaxed, letting out a huge yawn that almost threw me off of him. "Sorry.." He murmured between mouthfuls of unhealthy ready meal. Giving him a look that told him it was okay, my eyes began to wonder around the room. It was a nice apartment, kept tidy and polished by Colette. If it were up to Linguini the place would not look half as exquisite as it did. Suddenly out of the corner of my eye I noticed a large brown leather book carefully perched on the coffee table, the gold lettering on the front glittering in the moonlight. I had practically scoured Linguini and Colette's book collection but never before had I seen this one. I paced over towards it, looking back to see if my red headed friend had seen me. He hadn't, and was obviously too transfixed in eating to realise I had jumped off his shoulder. I stood in front of the book, inhaling the rich leathery scent and smiling. I loved the robust smell of leather, so warm and homely. The book was more of a file or a folder than a book with words, and I could see that the sides were tatty and torn. The front proudly read "Alfredo". Alfredo was Linguini's first name, and I wondered if maybe this book was his journal. Dragging up the cover, I discovered that it was in fact a photo album. I couldn't see well because the room was dark, but the moonlight was enough to let me pick out Linguini in the photos. In the first photo I could see a younger version of him in the middle, arms around a young looking woman with dark hair tied loosely in a bun. She looked like Linguini, leading me to believe that it was his mother or a sister. They shared the same eyes, and I could see resemblance in their smile. He had his trade mark curly red hair, and freckles dotted all over the place. I couldn't help but grin.

"What are you looking at, little chef?" My head jerked around to see Linguini, empty cup of noodles in his hand, looking tired. I grinned and pointed toward the photo.

"Oh. My photo album.. Where.. where did you find this?" I shrugged and pointed at the coffee table. I could see Linguini staring at the photo and his face looked a little uneasy. "That's my mom right there. R-Renata." I studied the photo once more. Of course, Renata. She was a very attractive woman. Suddenly the photo disappeared from my sight as Linguini lifted it up. "C-Come over here." He smiled and patted the couch space next to him. I padded across the floor and jumped up to join him. "This is my mom.. and.. and that's me. I think I was.. urm.." He paused to think. "Seven maybe.. yeah, seven. We're outside our home, in America." His finger trailed down to the photo below, an image of him with a toothy grin. "Oh no.. I look like.. like such a dork." He snorted. "Look at my teeth little chef!" I did as he said, and indeed he did look a little dorky. He had two teeth missing, and his hair was a mass of orange curls. But nonetheless he looked happy. I looked up to his face to see that he was smiling, obviously remembering when the photo was being taken.

"Ready to turn the page?" I nodded. The next page was filled with more photos, again in monochrome. The first picture featured a group of people, all smiling joyfully.

I heard a sound escape Linguini's mouth as he pointed to a face. "Me again." We both shared a laugh. He was so innocent and cute looking when he was a kid. Next to him in the photo was a large looking woman with dark hair. "That's my aunt Bella, My mom's sister." She was wearing a white dress and was holding a bowl of what looked like salad. "She liked to cook too.. urm, I think she still has a place in Brooklyn. I.. I don't know." He then pointed to two smaller children. "That's Marco.. and urm, Mari-.. Marionette.. No. Marietta. Yeah, Marietta. They're my cousins." He coughed. "Marco is older.. I think. Yeah he is." They both had dark hair, Marietta's being a little lighter than her brothers. "And this, that's my uncle Paolo. He was so funny.. I remember this one time, he surprised me on my birthday by running out of his house half naked carrying a cake for me. It.." He stopped to laugh. "I-It was so embarrassing, but he was so funny.. y'know." He chuckled under his breath. "I haven't seen them all in such.. such a long time. I.. I kinda miss them.." He trailed off, a sad look in his eyes. I tugged at his sleeve, smiling up at him for him to continue. He smiled back. "S-Sorry.." he nervously chuckled.

Time flew by and I had been introduced to cousins, friends, enemies at school and all sorts. I looked up next to me at my friend to see that he was snoring, photo album laid open in his lap. I smiled and shook my head, he was adorable even now. I patted him on the arm gently before trailing off to my own bed, taking one last look at him on the couch before resting my own eyes.