This should definitely be enough for one day.
Everything settled, I look at my bucket list. What should I do first?
2
ALLEGRA
I'm walkingaround the city center when a delicious smell drifts my way. I close my eyes and breathe in, my feet already taking me to the source. A food stall is frying something, the oval shapes orange and crispy. I blink twice, my mouth already producing an abundance of saliva.
I clear my throat and try to change my voice to sound like a boy.
"What are these?" I ask, my eyes still rooted on the delicacies in front of me.
The man preparing the food frowns.
"You don't know?" He sounds outraged, his hands moving in the air, and I instinctively take a step back. "Boy, have you been living under a rock? It'sarancini, Sicilian pride." He shakes his head, clearly put off by my very innocent inquiry. Well, whatever it is, I need some.
"Give me…" I pause, trying to figure out how many I'd need. "Ten!" Yes, that should do nicely. They're pretty small, after all.
Muttering something under his breath, the man does as told, packing me tenaranciniin a small bag. I pay and make to move,but a new smell assaults me. This time it's sweet. I lose all sense and quickly go to the next stall. Having learned my lesson, I don't ask what they are; instead, I just state my request confidently.
"Can I have five, please?" I decide on five since they're slightly bigger than the arancini.
"Fivecannolicoming," the lady exclaims, and I nod to myself, memorizing the name.
By the time I'm at the end of the street, I have around ten bags with me, all filled with different street foods. I save a few for later, stuffing the bags into the bike's basket. Taking out thearanciniand thecannoli, I find a spot to sit down and dive in.
First are the arancini, and oh my, what a tasty combination with the crispy outside and meat filling. I almost moan when it touches my tongue. When was the last time I had something fried? Something with meat and sauce? I sigh in pleasure, stuffing my mouth witharanciniafterarancini. Soon, the bag is empty.
But I don't stop.
My stomach is full, yet it feels bottomless. More, I need more. Otherwise, I won't ever get the chance again. Spurred by this carpe diem moment, I dive into the cannoli. I bite into the wafer, and the cream bursts into my mouth, assaulting my senses with a sweetness so foreign it's almost unbearable.
"God..." I whisper in between mouthfuls, the chocolate overwhelming my senses and sending me into overload.
How is this possible?
The taste is so potent and so perfect that I eat one after another until I'm left with only one. I scrunch my face a little as I look at it, my entire body rebelling at the thought of eating another one. But I don't listen.
No... I must have it all.
I shove it into my mouth, slowly chewing and trying to swallow.I take a deep breath and close my eyes, but a second later, everything comes back up. I scramble into the bushes, emptying my stomach to the last bit. I heave until there's nothing left, the force of it making me fall down, my sight a little hazy.
"Damn..." I mutter, my stomach still rebelling.
Maybe next time I should try moderation.
I take a moment to compose myself and drink some water. When I feel slightly better, I continue my exploration. I cross "food" off my list and move to the next item—the library. I'm well aware I won't be able to take anything back with me, but at least I can browse some books.
I go to the local library and do a quick inventory of their titles, marveling at the different covers and textures. Most of the books at home are classics with very mundane covers. When I pick up a book with a naked chest on it, my mouth forms an "o" and I almost drop it.
A naked man... on a cover? Feeling the forbiddenness of it, I look right and left before opening it. I quickly skim the summary and realize it's a love story.
What if…?
I don't have to take it home with me. I can just read it today and then give it to someone else, right?
I nod to myself, pleased with my line of thought and intrigued by the illicit cover of the novel. I pay for it and quickly stuff it in my bag, making sure no one can see the picture.
