sbocciare - (verb) bloom
***
The sky is still mostly dark—sunlight only starting to streak through the horizon when Carmen steps out of her hotel.
It's her last full day in Italy before she has to go home to Manila and she decides to make the most of it by taking an early morning stroll through the streets of Florence. She cradles her travel mug close to her chest, her cold hands stealing warmth from the coffee she made inside it.
She doesn't have concrete plans for the day, preferring to just wing it whenever it's her last day in a different country. She finds herself walking through Piazza della Signoria. The square is free from the bustle of tourist activity and she makes the most of her time alone admiring how the usually packed site of the Fontana del Nettuno is devoid of people.
She smiles wistfully. There was a time when she dreamed of seeing this place with someone.
She feels tears begin to prick her eyes and she has to shake off the thought. Now is not the time for that.
She walks around the length of the square, now lacking the earlier enthusiasm she had when she decided to take a walk. Sunlight now illuminates through the top of the Torre di Arnolfo and people are going to start waking up soon, as most of the shops around Florence open up.
She's about to make her way back to her hotel when she notices a woman now standing in front of the fountain she's just been to. Another early riser. Probably hoping to escape the crowd as well.
Carmen walks past her, only to stop in her tracks when the woman turns and greets her.
"Ciao."
She freezes at the voice. It sounds awfully like—but no, it can't be. She must have been more lonely than she thought she was earlier if her brain is now starting to conjure up the woman she so does not want to think about.
"Carmen?" The stranger says name confirming her fears.
She turns slowly, heart pounding erratically against her chest as her eyes meet familiar ones, glinting back at her.
"R-Regina."
She chokes out the name she hasn't said in over four years.
Regina walks up to her and for a second she is afraid she is going to hug her, but the woman stops a few steps away, arms hanging awkwardly by her sides as if she is actually restraining herself from doing so.
"I didn't expect to see you here," Regina grins at her in awe, looking at her with surprise and disbelief. Well, that makes the two of them.
"Me neither." She croaks, wishing she sounds more put together than she feels.
"Wow." She chuckles, still staring. She has no idea what to say.
Of all the places, in all the countries, they bump into each other right here—where they spent countless nights in bed together talking about, dreaming of visiting. What are the odds? The universe does have a cruel sense of humor.
"How long has it been?" Regina beckons Carmen to walk with her, and they fall into step beside each other, effortlessly, like no time has passed.
Four years and seven months, her mind supplies, but she's not about to let the other woman hear that.
"I don't know. A little over four years?" She shrugs, feigning ignorance as if she hasn't been numbering the days.
"Seven months."
