May 8, early in the morning.
A modest Fiat stopped not far from Milan Cathedral.
The driver's side door opened, and a person got out.
Dressed in a black suit, with a low-brimmed uniform cap.
With this outfit and his build, he looked like someone from Sicily.
Ancelotti looked left and right.
Seeing no one was paying attention, he quickly entered the church.
Then he zipped into the confessional.
The priest was startled.
"Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned."
Ancelotti whispered, "It's been a while since I last came to church."
He had seen many like him, all fearing recognition.
Peering through the partition's mesh, the priest saw Ancelotti in full gear and took the initiative to ask, "My child, what troubles you?"
"Well, then," Ancelotti said, "let's start with my kindergarten days."
"Wait, let's talk about more recent things."
The priest quickly wiped his forehead and interrupted.
Did he think his company was free?
"Oh, right."