Care Package

You Know

Nika

"Hola!" I warmly greeted the street vendor. "Uh ¿Puedo conseguir dos de esos churros, por favor?" I requested, pointing to the different options of churros.

"Si. Hoy te daré más, mi amor." The sweet lady winked as she drizzled chocolate sauce on my churro and caramel on the other.

We'd only been in Granada for a week, taking in the Spanish culture. We being Beyoncé and I. The love of my life. Yet, her and I were strangers 2 years, 7 months and 13 days ago.

It was crazy.

"Aquí tienes."

"Muchas gracias." I bowed my head with gratitude.

With swiftness, I packed the fresh snacks away into my tote. Manoeuvring through the congested market wasn't hard for somebody like me—someone who studied the way in which crowds moved.

"Lo siento." I heard, and reciprocated when my shoulder brushed against anyone else's.

When I neared the place where I laid my head at night, I cautiously peered around. I made sure nothing was out of the ordinary before buzzing the small side gate for the hostel.

My signature triple buzzing told Beyoncé that it was only me, so she let me up.

After making sure the gate was shut behind me, listening for the click it made, I headed up the not-so sturdy steps.

Along the way, I was greeted by the other occupants of the building. None of them knew me by name, which is exactly how it was supposed to be.

"Hola." I smiled, waving at a mother and daughter as I approached the right door.

Before I could even knock, the door swung open and Beyoncé stepped aside for me to walk in. I thanked her as I retrieved our treat from my bag.

"You took forever." The blonde exaggerated, pressing her body against mine and nosily peeking into the tote bag on my shoulder.

"Well, today was busier than normal." I shrugged out, handing her what she wanted. "That sweet churro lady gave me extra today."

"Perks of going there everyday." Beyoncé slowly bit into the soft delicacy. "I'm going to miss these."

"When are we leaving?"

"Tonight. Just before midnight, so we can catch the next boat out." She further explained and I just nodded.

Once I had my hands free, with the exception of my food, I sat beside Beyoncé—almost in her lap. We toasted our churros, grinning when the caramel and chocolate sauce mixed.

"When we cross the oceanic border, we'll need these." Beyoncé picked up two passports, opening them to reveal our identities for the next week.

"Why do you get the better name?" I pouted, fussing about the small detail.

"Hey, I didn't make them." She defended. "When we get to Thailand, I'm sure you'll be able to choose out your name."

"Good because Maria is not me." I read my passport aloud. "I'm a Rosa, I can just feel it."

"Feel it?"

"What do you want me to say, Bey? I feel it in my nipples." I said, rolling my eyes.

"I didn't even ask for that." She shook her head.

"You're always setting me up." I smiled, leaning into her and puckering my lips. She pecked mine a few times.

Once again, she shook her head, except this time she was refuting my claim. "You're just always ready with an answer."