arted three m

The task? Profile hidden gems in Tuscany for their upcoming summer issue. A straightforward gig. A few scenic towns, interviews with

ot on the

ted coffee beans and possibility. Still, the long transatlantic flight had drained her. By the time she reached her hotel - San Pietro di Posit

ed piled with cushions, walls the color of soft apricots. There was even a tiny balcony overlooking a courty

lf. Even with jet lag tugging at her limbs, she lined up her skincare bottles on the bathroom counter, arranged her clothes by category in the wardrobe, and slid her favorite not

n't la

ck jarred

hed against her chest. Somewhere outside her dreams,

Feminine, loud. American.

ng her face into the pillow like i

the door or I'll start sing

did

e dragged herself to the door. She cracked it o

it?" sh

a mission. "You didn't come all the way to Italy to sleep the day away,"

unlight spilled

ne, I literally jus

n, turning on her heels. "You should b

unimpressed. "My muse is currently curled up in a ball and

ed pacing the room. "Do you even kno

e I'm... passionate? Rel

turned in a pitch in two months, and your last feature didn't e

ed. "I've jus

fall in love with places. Now you sound like a travel brochure.

Celeste

ed for this assignment. I thought maybe being here - Florence, Tuscany - ma

he wall, gently bumping her head against

how righ

read counts, she had lost her rhythm. Her writing had become mechanical, her heart no longer in it. Once, she wrote with wonder. She use

The beautiful suite. The light. The open balcony

n't just anoth

was a tur

door closed, and walked to her open suitc

her a small, tired smile. "Okay," sh

rse I am. And lucky for you, I've al

sed a brow.

food tour. Locals only. They're

eleste translated alou

ng her a scarf. "Now hurry up. And wear your

ed. A small,

le. Then she sat on the edge of the bed, notebook in hand, pen uncapped. Nothing came out. But inste

n and a travel writer who got famous on TikTok for reviewing treehouses. Celeste half-listened, her eyes scanning the world around her - an old m

d meats, roasted peppers, and fresh bread danced in the air. Jane led her past

," Jane explained, checking h

t was quiet, unassuming, manned by a young man with paint-stained fingers and thick dark lashes. Leather-bound

their textures soft, the leather worn but new. She picked one up. On the first

oice asked. Italian-accen

ll smiled. He looked her straight in the eyes, and

es," sh

journal and brushing its cover. "One by one.

inked. "Th

" he replied

ane returned, waving. "The

tebook in hand, journal s

o longer looking at her. He was talking to anoth

A spark. A flicker. A whisp

, somehow, s

even know

he'd find his w

was lucky, she'd f