Mia Roma

The sun shone through all the windows of the stores on the brown cobble-stone street. The street itself had cracks everywhere and was warn with age, as was everything in Rome. The street was small, it couldn't even fit a car, but it was busy with people. The stores on the street level were small, quaint, and more likely than not family owned. On the three levels above were a sea of cloths lines and the sun shining to dry the wet laundry. The buildings, much like the street, were worn with age and a brown tint to go with the street. On the street you could feel the sun warming the city for a new day in Italy. The people had smiles on their faces as they stopped at or passed by the little shops that lined the street. There were flowers in every window to feel the glow of a new day.

In a corner of the street was a little coffee shop, which had an abundance of flowers all around. Not just in the windows but on the tables, iron gate, and even on the street lights in front of it. This coffee shop was by no means any less busy than the rest of the little street. It had people going in and out of it every minute; the chatter from all the people was endless and noisy. But it was something welcome with open arms in Italy, for everyone was family.

But in the corner of the coffee shop, next to the iron gate, was a young man with flowers of his own. His head was in the shade of an umbrella but his body was experiencing a warm kiss from the sun. This young man's golden eyes were searching for something. He tuned out all the noise of the street, he could not even hear the birds that sang their morning song for everyone to enjoy. No he was trying to hear a young woman's voice, his morning bird's voice. He was getting impatient; it was clear as the sky above him. His foot tapped, he ran a tanned hand trough his brown locks, and there was a clear scowl on a most likely handsome face.

He then took a sip from the white porcelain coffee cup that was on the table next to him. The flowers were still in his other hand. He was an anxious mess until he heard his morning birds song from behind, "Romano you sweet man, you didn't have to buy me flowers." Romano got out of his seat and spun on the spot to see his flower.

She had changed; she bloomed into an even more extravagant flower. Her skin was like a crème on a cake, her large eyes were a dark chocolate, and her hair as black as the night sky above the Trevi Fountain. Her body had grown more curves, more petals, yet still held her limbs to the size of a stem. She was a short flower, not too far from the ground, but her size just made her rare. Her form was covered by a black jumper, her boots simulated a nineteenth century style English boot. The base was black, the rest a crème with small black buttons crawling up her leg to her knee. She had a belt around her waist as well, mirroring the boots. Her hair was slightly pulled back but her bangs were still covering her forehead. But what made her truly blossom was her small innocent smile, with pink tinted lips to wear that smile.

Romano smiled at her, "You are right Emily I did not have to, in fact I shouldn't have. For how can I compare this simple beauty to yours." Emily just giggled and came into his open arms, warm and content she was. She really shouldn't have felt that giddy over such a compliment, her Italian was known for his flirtatious remarks to her. But she could not rid herself of the wonderful feeling. "I missed you mia Roma," the flower said to her sun. "And I you mia bella," the sun said and gave her a warm kiss that could match that of the glowing orb in the sky above. As they parted they both smiled, content and happy to be in each other's arms once more.