“What’s that?” He asked, staring downwards with a look of angst.

“You know what that is!”

“No, I don’t, actually. We don’t have that where I’m from.” He ran his hands across the metal coils, looking at the buttons and the knobs on the device.

“Watch this,” I said, made sure he removed his hand, and turned one of the coils on. “Hold you hand over it.”

He jumped back as he did. “Well, what’s it for?”

“What’s your favorite food?” I asked.

“Food?” He replied, sounding as if he had never said the word before.

I nodded. “What you eat?”

He shook his head again. I walked to the refrigerator and took out a tomato, sliced it up, and took a pan from the cabinets. He watched my every move like a cat waiting to be fed. He was particularly interested in the olive oil.

“Have you never cooked before?” I asked as I sautéed the tomato and he squealed watching the steam rise.

“No,” he said, clasping his hands over his heart. “I’ve never even been in a building like this before.”