Author's note: You guys, thank you for liking this story so much! I wish I could update more often, but it is what it is. Oh, should probably tell you that the story will get a M rating soon, but I think we were all expecting that. As always, read and review!

It was on thursday just after work that Helen came over to my desk, looking less stressed than usual. In fact, she looked excited, her face bright and alert.

"So, me and a few others are going to a party on saturday...and I was wondering if you wanted to come with us?" she asked me, looking back to the other women in the room, whom, while not looking back, smiled as they worked. Huh, that was unusual. I leaned forward on my desk, my suit jacket hanging abandoned on the back on my chair so that I could roll up my shirtsleeves.

"Where?" I asked, shutting off my computer and picking up my handbag from the floor. Helen continued, oblivious to how I was feeling about it. Instead she inspected her nails with a critical look.

"La Stracciora is throwing a summer ball, they do every year in the last days of june. It's in Florence of course." she said, and I didn't answer right away – I was going to florence on saturday too.

"Oh, I see."

Helens cheery attitude faltered a little when she noticed how long it was taking me to answer her, her expression uncertain.

"So do you want to come?" she asked, and I shot her a small smile.

"I'll think about it..."

"Right. Well, call me when you know."

I had attended a lot of parties back in Forks – of course I had, I was a teenager. But my limited experience of them here in volterra had so far been...well, less than successful. And besides, I was probably going to be tired from spending the whole day in the city, like I had planned. But I did enjoy dancing, and since the other secretaries had started treating me better, perhaps it wouldn't hurt to spend more time with them.

And well, my communication with the "masters" was currently not so great – especially regarding one of them in particular. I should at least be able to get along with some of my peers.

Saturday morning, I woke up very early – at 8 am to be exact. The sun was still climbing steadily in the sky, and the air was still cool, as it always was around dawn. Something I'd noticed, no matter where on earth, no matter how warm the climate might be, there was just something about the air at dawn that was extra cold. Like the elements had forgotten how to conjure heat. I stretched in bed, my feet brushing against fur. I sat up and was met by the sight of the cat, curled up like a ball at the foot of the bed, fast asleep. One thing was for sure – he was no early bird. I reached down at stroked his back gently, and he stretched and leaned into my hand, purring loudly. His wounds were healing nicely, and the bandages were finally off.

I had no idea what I was going to do about him, once the summer was over. It would be too cruel to throw him out, now that he had gotten used to a human taking care of him. Sighing, I tossed the covers aside and got out of bed, promising myself to come up with a plan way before I had to leave Volterra for good.

I had about an hour before the bus left for Florence, which was enough for me to get dressed and eat a light breakfast. I had forgotten to do laundry the night before, so I just threw on an old band t-shirt and blue sweatpants. To make it look less lazy, I put my hair up in a bun and a few old bracelets I had brought with me from home. Though really, it didn't matter much – nobody was going to keep me company during the day. As for the party later, I carefully folded down a simple cocktail dress and put it in my satchel.

Helen had said that I didn't have to worry about catching a late bus home, saying that she would be the designated driver for the night.

Around an hour later, the cat ( I would really have to pick out a name soon) had woken up, eaten and went over to the front door, meowing at me loudly to let him out. I had initially been worried about letting him out, since I was usually gone all day without being able to let him in again. But then, one day after work, I had discovered that, aside from being half-feral he was also a pretty good climber. There was a tree right outside by the balcony, which he would climb and then drop down on the balcony landing, making it look easy as pie.

As soon as I cranked open the door, he swooped down the stairs with the speed of a cannonball. An elderly lady that lived on the floor above me was on the stairs below, and she gasped at the sight of the black cat, clutching her newspaper in one gnarled hand, her eyes wide. I snorted at the sight, shaking my head.

"Just my luck to take care of a black cat." I muttered, even though I wasn't superstitious in the least.

Florence looked different this time when I arrived. Perhaps it was because I was alone, but I took notice of other things than I had last time. For example, all the children I saw did not either cry or nag at their parents – while the tourists and their children in turn didn't seem to get along about anything. Another was how clean the water in the fountains was, clear enough that the glitter of coins at the bottom catches the sunlight, twinkling up at anyone who passed by.

I had thought the city was flat but it wasn't – just like Volterra, the city foundation was in part built on rolling hills, but unlike volterra, the hills were not at the center of attention. In the south side of the city, the pavement just followed whatever shape the earth had – and it came as a surprise when I turned around and noticed that I had climbed a steep hill.

Before lunch, I spent most of my time walking around like this, exploring freely, not really thinking about where I was going. The sun was warming up by now, its heat clinging to my clothes in a way that was soothing. Behind me, the sound of footsteps was becoming less frequent, the road I was walking on had neither stores or any shops. I soon came upon a large park called Giardino Bardini, which overlooked the steep hill I had just walked up, and the rest of the city that lay below it.

Standing there on the gravel path, looking out at the sunbathed city, for a small moment I longed for the smell of pinetrees and getting my feet wet by lingering rain in the grass.

But the moment passed. Everything that was good here effectively erasing whatever longing I had. I could not allow such longing, not for that.

After lunch I decided to explore the other, more busier side of the city – where Helen had taken me. But I did not choose the same path, instead I wanted to see the smaller, less expensive shops. I was not interesting in shopping per se, but I knew that this place was famous (among other things) for their fragrant perfumes and soaps – and I hadn't brought any with me to italy, since flight regulation only allowed a small amount of liquid, which I instead used to pack extra toothpaste.

I am very particular about that, dont ask why.

I passed by some of the more expensive shops on my way, stopping once in awhile to look in the windows, but never going inside. I knew that if Helen had been with me, she would probably have dragged me into all of them.

Just because something was expensive didn't automatically give it more meaning. Sure, wearing a dress made of satin didn't make me feel bad, but it was not something I could wear everyday. Feeling more than a little intimidated by the stern shopkeepers that seemed to glare at me as soon as I entered any shop, I ended up retreating to a nearby department store. After browsing around, I found a nice body spray with a subtle lavender smell, which I purchased.

After the purchase, I continued wandering down the road lined with smaller shops – and my curiosity was piqued when I saw a large, painted shop sign in green, surrounded by a bright gold lining. The sign read, Libri antico- e altre curiosità.

Antique books and other curiosities.

I didn't really know what I was doing, going in there. If someone from Forks would have seen me then, they would either have started laughing or outright asked me the same question. Like I said before, I wasn't exactly known for being...smart, I guess.

But I had really liked Aro's book, had finished it twice since then. I figured that, if I could get through that, then perhaps I could...

"Benvenuto, signora."

I jumped at the voice, my eyes finding the check-out counter and the old man standing behind it, smiling at me. I was barely inside the shop, one foot still on the pavement outside. I blinked several times, before nodding at him in greeting.

"Oh, buona giornata." I said, almost stuttering, tucking a stray strand of red hair behind my ear. I must have looked startled, for he started to wave his hands about, motioning me to calm down.

"Oh, an american! Don't mind me signora, just look around – see if there is anything you like." he said before turning away from me to a tall bookcase behind him, reaching up to put something back in its place. I watched him for a moment before I walked inside, taking note of what the interior looked like. It had a very musty smell, almost like mold but not quite. Other than that it looked like your regular bookstore, except for the books themselves.

Most of them looked very old, the spines cracked and some of them with the pages bended and wavy, like somone had thrown the book in a lake. Not very strange, since the sign outside did say "antique books". But not all of the books were in such bad shape.

One of them, which my eyes had zoned in on, had a familiar author written on its spine. It was sitting on a low shelf, making me crouch down in order to get a better look at it. I heard the shopkeepers footsteps approaching me, but this time I wasn't startled.

"Ah, a fan of the classics I see." he commented, to which I didn't really know what to say. I had no knowledge in this area.

"I've only read one other book by him." I said, standing up again with the book now in my hands. He tilted his head as he looked at me curiously, no judgement or scrutiny in his face.

"Really, which one?"he asked politely. Usually, in class, this sort of question posed to me would have been the beginning of a challenge, or as a way to redicule me. So it was with some reluctance that I answered him.

"The Time Machine." I said, and the shopkeeper smiled, nodding his head several times – he looked pleased.

"Oh, that's a good one. Yes, very good. And that one in your hands is even better – has a happy ending too." he proclaimed, pointing to it. I looked down at the moss green cover, the ornate letters of gold that read The War of the Worlds. I shrugged, considering what he was saying.

"I don't really care much about that, as long as the journey is good. " I said, not really expecting any sort of reply. But again I was startled when he laughed, not a mocking one but one full of joy. He pointed at me several times and smiled triumphantly, like I had passed some sort of exam.

"Ah! Young people like you should read more often. You see what it brings you? Good ideas, good thoughts."

Five minutes later, I had somehow been convinced to buy the book – and oddly enough, I was looking more forward to reading that than going to the party later tonight.