Meatballs. She had to try Sweden's very own meatballs. Ikea's were good back at home but she doubted they had anything on Sweden's own. She thanked the man who cooked them for her and crumpled up the napkin with a number on it that he had passed to her while serving her.
She wasn't here for a man, she was here for the meatballs.
Not only the gracious meatballs but the nature too, in comparison to all the other wonderful places she had visited she had rated Sweden's landscaping and nature walks the best. The lakes, the animals, the mountains. She soaked it all up like a sponge, often doodling the views she saw. She was no artist but she enjoyed the doodling, with other hikers passing her by thinking she was a professional. She'd pass a smile and focus back on her drawing, giving up the illusion that she was a professional in her work, maybe an anonymous artist or a well-known millionaire. These people did not know her and that all shaped the illusion.
She enjoyed the peaceful nature walks, she enjoyed her own company and the sounds of the birds in the trees. As she walked along the mountain side couples and families would pass her by, she smiled at them but had an underlying feeling of pity for them. She believed nature walks were best to do alone, families only spoiled the fun and complicated things. Couples were attached at the hips, she laughed. She didn't need a man to take her out and pretend to enjoy her nature walks just to get into her pants that night. She was healthy and fit enough to brave it alone, she wasn't going to play the partner who complained about the walking and begged to go back home after a flimsy mile.
She could do it, so she did. Alone.
And thoroughly enjoyed it.