Impulse

2. Whirlwind

senirasushipping — because a picture is worth a thousand words

***

There's just one little tradition I have when I travel. The moment I set foot in my hotel room, before I go anywhere or do anything or even sit down, I head straight to the window and take a good, long look at the view.

It only takes a single glimpse of the Nimbasa City lights to render me completely breathless.

Some might say this is nothing special. But compared to Snowpoint, it's downright magical. Back home, the tallest building is the Pokémon Center, with a grand total of two stories. And if you happen to glance out the second floor window, all you'll see is more snow.

From way up here in room 1605, I can see Nimbasa for miles and miles. There's that famous theater—the one where Pokémon Musicals first came to be. And there's that sports stadium—thanks to its size, it's impossible to ignore. And off to the side, brighter than anything else on the horizon, there it is.

The Ferris wheel. I've been fantasizing about it ever since I picked the location for this year's retreat. Me and Volkner on the Ferris wheel, to be specific. It's the stuff romcoms are made of. The sun will be setting and we'll be sitting close, and he'll take my hand, and I'll rest my head on his shoulder...

"It's beautiful," I'll say, gazing out at the sky and the city below.

"You're beautiful," he'll reply, not taking his eyes off me.

When we reach the highest point, the wheel will stop, if only for a moment. And he'll smile at me like he never has before and I'll smile back because this is what I've been waiting for, and we'll lose ourselves in the perfect kiss. Because that's just what you do on top of a Ferris wheel. It's practically common knowledge.

Don't get me wrong. I'm not crazy. I know the odds of any of that happening are slim to none. But a girl can dream, right?

Dreaming may be an understatement. The thing is, I've learned pretty quickly that Volkner doesn't do romance. Like, he thinks Sleepless in Striaton is the stupidest movie ever. And Flint once told me that Volkner's ex-girlfriend Jasmine finally broke it off because she'd send him these love letters all the way from Johto and then he'd go and reply via text message, which is kind of missing the point.

Not that I minded. It just goes to show that she wasn't the right girl for him. But anyway.

It's time I changed out of these winter clothes. So I forget the Ferris wheel for now and empty the contents of my suitcase out onto the floor (not ideal, I know—but I can't exactly lift it onto my bed, can I?) in search of the perfect outfit.

"Zut alors!" shrieks Fantina as she emerges from the closet, eyeing the now-covered carpet with a frown. "Is that all yours?"

Yes, Fantina. That's my roommate. Fantina, of all people. It's a long story.

I know what she's thinking. Why in the world would I need all this for one weekend away?

To be totally honest, I'm not too sure myself. I guess I've always been something of a fashionista. It goes way back to my junior trainer years, when I insisted on wearing pretty little coats and tights while all the other kids were in snowsuits. It's a part of who I am.

Although Alicia from my gym did tell me something interesting once. (She tends to overanalyze, that girl. It's oh so convenient when it comes to planning battle strategies, not so convenient when it comes to real life.) She thinks my passion for fashion stems from a deep-down desire to distance myself from the old Snowpoint Gym Leader like my life depends on it.