Wind echoed down the hallway; past the open door, entering through the gaping window in the corner of the small hotel room. Curtains flew to life, dancing and swimming in the cool night breezes. Dim television light flickered in the dark room, blankets of blue washing over the walls, bed, and lamp, sweeping across the floor, hanging from the ceiling, mimicking the deep, rolling waves of the ocean. Muted lovers kissed good-bye in the space of a small, black frame, and the end credits rolled.

Feet squirmed under the massive comforter, pulling and kicking the sheets until they lay crumpled on the floor. Hand reached for the remote, clicking the television off with the strike of the index finger. Pupils dilated instantly as the room was immersed in black, darkness so profuse it was virtually tangible. Lungs inflated noisily through flared nostrils, deflating soundlessly, tiredly, chest collapsing in turn. Leg swung over the mattress, followed by its opposite, disrupting the pillows which fell to the floor in time with feet. Ankles cracked on impact, still stiff with jetlag. Elbows drove back into the mattress, shoulders rising, followed by the chest, then stomach. Thighs tensed as the body rose to full height, staggering towards the window. It was four in the morning, and she couldn’t sleep.

The moon wavered high overhead despite the nighttime hours passing it by, almost daring the sun to come and claim its position once again. Stars flickered dim, disappearing slowly from the velvety, Italian sky. Salty wind brushed through the woman’s auburn hair, shuffling the strands over one another in disarray. In the distance, streetlamps burned murky yellow, pools of mustard-tinted light washed over the road in sections. The occasional car horn blared through the city, waking up the sleepy drivers along the avenue. Anticipation rose in the sleeping inhabitants, catching what last hours of sleep they could before the birds sung their morning praises. What a beautiful night in Rome.

Brown eyes shimmered in the moonlit glow, flecks of gold appearing as they ran over the cityscape. Pale pink lips pursed at the sudden smell of cigarette tobacco as someone on the first floor blew smoke just out their window. Milky skin shifted as the woman moved to close the window, curtains falling once more to outline the wooden frame. “Just a few more hours,” she whispered, crawling into bed. “Tomorrow I’ll explore the city more.” She lifted up the sheets from the ground, tossing the remote to a side-table, and drifted off into a restful, dreamless slumber.

Morning arrived with the beep of her alarm clock, signaling 8:00am. Yawning tiredly, her eyes peeked open, and she pulled herself from the warm mattress once again, shutting off the infernal beeping as she did. The warm shower was enchanting, and reminded her of the ache in her lower back brought on by the uncomfortable airplane ride over. After washing up, the woman wrapped herself in a fluffy, white, cheap towel, combing through her hair with a brush brought from home until it was fairly dry, and pulled it up into a careless side pony-tail. Bangs fell side-swept across her brow, dampened locks falling to just graze the back of her earlobe before cutting off. She thought short hair was easier to care for, especially in the summer heat.

After applying light makeup, to help improve her otherwise dull appearance, she started to get dressed. Towel-dried hands rummaged through the unzipped suitcase, finding her outfit for the day and tossing it on. Worn jeans dressed her legs, pooling over her brown walking shoes slightly. A long, white shirt wrapped around her torso, falling to reach near her knees, wide, pink, glossy belt tying around her slim waist at an angle. An open, worn denim jacket completed her outfit, cutting off at the waist, allowing much of the shirt to still be seen from the back but hiding its short sleeves. Oversized, white sunglasses hid her eyes, lenses a mirrored-black. And at 8:32am, the 26-year-old Anne Elizabeth Myer was ready for Rome.

Annie grabbed her purse, which sat on the side-table, next to the remote control, and headed out the door, pocketing the room-key on her way. There were already a few people, along with her, leaving the hotel this morning. They probably had jetlag, as well. The swinging door allowed her to exit into the breezy morning wind. The streets were beginning to busy with pedestrians, and she started down one of the streets heading deeper into the city. Rome was so beautiful; the plane ride was definitely worth it.

Fin.