"I am a devil. A demon. I do not love. I destroy. And if you don't leave now, I will destroy you for I cannot love an angel."
"I am an archangel. An angel. I love. I create. And if I stay now, I will only love you more for I am capable of loving a d...
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Luna ran fast, the trees and the crowd blurring beneath what was embossed upon her full story. Today was supposed to be highlight of her year – her eighteenth. A decade and eight. And today, the spectacular eclipse would occur, right here, in Rome, Italy's capital. Of all the places in the world where it could enlighten its phenomenal beauty, somehow, it chose to be here, and she couldn't get any luckier.
The only problem?
Her boyfriend (now an ex). Her friends.
Estevan, her ex-boyfriend, was beyond her. He was everything every girl wished for. He had this shiny black hair and strong body that could block off anything. And he had these green eyes that would make you feel like you were around nature; simple and refreshing. He was sweet and kind, and everything she had not hoped for. Sure, she loved him, but the love she felt was not enough.
Her friends were too supportive she was starting to think they were only friends with her because of Estevan. Maybe that was the case. In any case, she broke up with him. She found out he was cheating on her for months. Estevan looked so innocent then. Unfortunately, it was just a mask. He was playing the nice card, so no girl would suspect a thing. And now, her friends were mad at her. For not forgiving Estevan when he tried to bloody woo her again. For not accepting any of their gifts. For leaving England. For going somewhere far, far away from them. Anyway, she was here. In Rome. To celebrate her birthday. Because going back home meant facing her ex and her friends.
London was never her home. She never felt anything about that place.
But Rome . . .
Rome was a city full of art. Every arching dome and curves of lane was inscribed with a story, a beauty in totality. The structure was always often made with something symbolical, a myth, a person, a historical event. And Luna loved the busy bustle of every street – the aroma of freshly powdered coffee out from the cafes, the local wines over any food, the people's language (Latin and Greece): an essence of life, always so passionate, always so dominant.
Luna couldn't help but stare at the astonishing artistic heritage. Sometimes, she even wished she was born here. Rome was full of ancient statues adorned museums and Renaissance frescoes blaze through the archaic type of churches. And then there's Michelangelo's sculptures, Caravaggio's canvases, and fountains by Bernini.
Everything was artful and radiant, so full of colors and lively people. Luna –
Stepped on something.
Something precious and would probably cost a lot.
A painting contrasting shades of sunset and sunrise, drawn and sketched with intricate and delicate details. With a huge mark of her boots on the side. Ruined painting.
"Bloody hell, I cocked up! I'm sorry!" she flung the words around, as if her words were enough to cover the painting. "Sorry, so, so sorry! Shite!"
