You Look Lonely - F1

III. before

The day after we met up in front of Cova in Montenapoleone, one of Milan's most charming and delicious pastry shops. 

On the bustling Sunday morning, the city hummed with vibrant energy and the air was laced with the fragrant promise of freshly brewed coffee and sweets.

Unconventionally, it had always been my favourite day of the week. The tranquillity it offered amidst the city's chaos was precious to me. That particular morning I felt happier than ever, waiting for his arrival wrapped in a cozy blue woollen jumper. The only downside was gusty winds threatening to whisk me away.

He materialized moments later, cocooned in his familiar accessories: dark sunglasses, a blue cap and a scarf that fluttered like a flag.

"Good morning sleepy head" I teased, leaning in for a light hug. He scoffed, peering over his sunglasses. His eyes betrayed him and you could see the remnants of a sleep-deprived night "Are you hungover?" I added, holding a gentle smile.

I had to take tons of pills to sustain the morning ahead since I had managed only a few hours of restless sleep... but it had been a justified sacrifice. He would be leaving in three hours so it was the best option we had.

Yawning, I nudged him playfully. We were like old friends, our connection feeling deeper than mere hours could justify and it messed with my head.

He opened the door to the cafè and beckoned me to enter first, a flush of gratitude warming my cheeks at his manners, then our presence was acknowledged by the waitress.

She welcomed us with a kind smile.
"Good morning" she greeted "Good morning, I called a few minutes ago" Fernando said. She widened her eyes and quickly nodded, guiding us toward a more secluded area.

Confusion knitted my brow at his pointless reservation. 

What was that for?

He leaned closer as if he had read my mind "This place tends to fill up quickly" he excused himself with a guilty smile.

We both thanked her and took our seats as Fernando removed his sunglasses and scarf, leaving his blue hat on.

"So, are you ready to leave? " I asked, fiddling with the bracelets on my wrist. "Kind of, yeah," he replied, intertwining his fingers, a little uncertainty in his tone of voice.

Our conversation was light,and  nostalgic, as we talked about our encounter and how Milan, with its grey skies and polluted air allured the tourists in. Then the waitress came back and we both ordered a double espresso and a pastry each, which arrived in just a few minutes.

"When will you graduate? I forgot to ask you" he said blowing on his cup to cool down the hot liquid. His eyes were fixed on mine and I bit my lip, feeling a hint of vulnerability as he addressed the subject. 

"This spring, I'm still writing my thesis so..." "And what comes next?" my teeth caught my lip once again, a habit linked to my discomfort.

I've been loving the idea of being a reporter since I was a little girl. Getting to know and interview people about their passions and stories has always fascinated me, to the point I used to pretend my Barbies were hosting shows and writing for a living. "I'm still not sure but probably something sport-related," I confessed, stealing a glance at him. 

His eyes widened in surprise and I couldn't help but feel naked under his stare "And why that particular area?" he inquired.

"Well, working with people who live for their passion is something else. I've always envied athletes and sportspeople in general, their determination and sacrifices, the way they push their body over the limits... " I looked at him and I thought I could see his eyes glimmer "They truly amaze me" a pleased grin appeared on his face.