A Week In Rome | AWI series |✔

» tuesday

Life is different when you cut yourself off from the world. With my cellphone turned off, I was unreachable. Only my family knew about my whereabouts--to everyone else, I was just gone.

It felt as if I lived in another world entirely. Off the grid. Watching people lead lives as an outsider. For some reason, it was refreshing. The fact that no one knew where I was... it was exhilarating. But a part of me couldn't help but wonder if anyone was trying to reach me. If he—the very person I fled from—even cared to try and contact me.

Now, I found myself sitting in an old motel room with my phone in my hand, my bottom lip between my teeth.

The device was so enticing. It wouldn't hurt to check it. Just to see if I had any messages from...

No.

Groaning, I threw the distraction behind me and onto the bed.

The motel that I'd found last night was in the middle of the city. And far too expensive for my liking. But I was living life believing that there were no consequences. In the moment. Not before, not after.

I threw on one of the only two t-shirts I'd brought with me, along with a dark pair of jeans. Staring into the dirty mirror, I frowned at my choice of wardrobe. In a city where everyone seemed to have an impeccable sense of fashion, I would surely stand out. But something told me I'd stand out anyway.

Shrugging, I tossed my hair over my shoulder and grabbed my backpack. What Rome had in store for me today, I didn't know. But I couldn't wait to find out.

I wandered around the city by myself that morning, embracing the weather. The entire day felt like how the atmosphere feels right before a storm. Calm. 

There were several tourist stands scattered all across the city, and for some reason, I felt myself migrating towards the same one I'd been with yesterday. My first experience with the tour-guide, who I later found out was named Marco, had being quite the interesting one, so I thought I'd see where he was going to take me today.

I didn't have a solid itinerary set up. I was going to see where each day led me and go from there. And for some reason, I wanted to be a part of Marco's tour again. When I saw him, I imagined a dog chasing him down the street, which brought a smile to my face. A part of me wondered where Max was today, and whether or not I really would see him. He lingered in the back of my thoughts somewhere as I followed Marco through the city.

Because the group was only about six people today, I could tell that he recognized me when I joined. He winked once he spotted me, his lips forming a wide smile.

Oh boy.

Ignoring his frequent glances and the way that he puffed his chest out to a point where it seemed uncomfortable, I lingered behind the tourists as we explored the street Via Margutta. It was narrow, and at every few feet there seemed to be stands of artwork and musicians. The atmosphere was beautiful. Artistic. I found myself staring at an illusionist painting. Someone had painted the very street I stood on, but with colors and shapes of random objects, animals, letters. It was beyond creative and exquisite, and I jumped a little when I heard someone speak next to me.

"I don't know if I like this one that much."

It was Marco, and he had his hand on his chin, his face contorted in what seemed to be disgust. His head was cocked a little to the side as he pretended to be studying the painting. I rolled my eyes and sighed.

"It's beautiful if you ask me." I refused to meet his eyes as I felt them still studying me from head to toe. He was trying a little too hard to be charming. For some, it came naturally. For Marco, it was a comical sight.