It had been such a good day. Alison wanted time itself to stop so she could stay here, in the glow of sunset, watching the bright blue rooves turn golden forever.
She had sea-legs. More like stair-legs, like sea-legs but I’ve been climbing stairs for too long. She had gotten so used to the walking–up one alleyway and down that corridor, around that bend, and along that street–when she finally took a moment to take in the sunset, she forgot what stillness felt like. I better get used to it soon, though.
It was the second last day of her trip. France, Italy, Spain, and now Greece. The tour of a lifetime. Alison had been dreaming up places to visit ever since she first imagined what Paris was like in her Art History class in Grade 9. She never really had a plan for her trip, she just knew she wanted to go. Typical–is what her friends would say. Ali just goes with what feels good to her. And Santorini felt really good.
That was when he saw her, sitting on the wall along the walkway, just staring out into the sunset. On most days, Henry focused on his work and hardly ever noticed the tourists coming out in droves–they became part of the scenery. But today, he had time, and she was blocking his view. It seemed like she didn’t realise this section of the street was actually part of the cafe’s patio. She sat there, completely oblivious to the looks of the other cafe patrons. The wind blowing up from the shore caught in her hair and carried the scent of roses mingled with the scent of the sea and cigarettes. When was the last time he had smelled a rose?
Prompt: Spin the Globe.