It had indeed been a lovely day—and night—with Tanya. The Roman sky, with its perfect weather and silver night glow, mirrored Cay’s mood. But every dreamlike episode must eventually give way to the waking world of reality.
Cay soothed Tanya to sleep by stroking her long, slender neck. He longed to do more than simply feel her lightly sunburnt skin or stare into her green eyes with hints of yellow dancing around the pupils. But they both knew—deep down—that time was short. Feelings, while intoxicating, were not something worth investing too deeply in, especially when the two would soon be half a world apart.
Once she fell into a soundless sleep—he only realized ten minutes later—Cay slipped quietly out of bed and into the kitchen with his pack of Pall Malls. He opened the window near the laundry machine as wide as possible, hoping the smoke would drift outward. It didn’t. The wind blew in from the opposite direction. His effort was fruitless, but not meaningless.
The temporary nicotine boost sharpened his thoughts, and he considered picking up his Sebastian Faulks novel. Luckily, he had brought it with him. Otherwise, he might have woken Tanya with the creaking of the door or his light steps. He imagined her eyes, glowing green in the dark, opening and watching him with feline precision at the slightest noise.
After reading a few pages, he got up and made tea using the cheap tea leaves and the metal kettle provided by the hostel. The amenities at Romangero Hostel had proven worth the price—just low enough to avoid tipping into cheap hotel territory. A half-used carton of long-life milk sat on the table. He poured just a splash into his mug, not wanting to ruin the already bland taste of the tea from a brand unknown to him.
Careful not to disturb the sleeping guests, he tiptoed back into the room, exposed only by the dim yellow hallway light. He slipped under the blanket with practiced ease and fell asleep quickly—perhaps helped by the wine from earlier, or perhaps not.
The next morning, most people stirred awake.
“I’ll be with you all later,” Yoshi grumbled, turning his back in the top bunk, resuming his usual role as the hostel’s sleeping mummy.
Cay joined the others in the kitchen for breakfast—cereal and bitter black coffee. He finished the last of the milk. Only a few drops had been left.
Tanya gestured for Cay to join her outside. She disliked the cramped, often stuffy kitchen—especially when all the seats were taken. Cay downed the rest of his pasta, gulped the coffee, and rushed to pack. He hadn’t seen Judas in two days and thought he owed his friend an explanation.
Judas listened quietly to Cay’s summary of the past couple of days. When Cay finished, Judas simply nodded and continued eating. A nod from Judas was more than acknowledgment—it was approval.
Relieved, Cay headed back to the room to catch up with Tanya’s packing. A few minutes later, with his overstuffed backpack full of half-dirty clothes, he rejoined her. The two of them exited the hostel, stepping into the Roman morning.
Yoshi remained asleep, unmoving in his bed, as if he’d never left it.
Jenna had once owned a green cotton hoodie. Cay remembered it vividly—it had been with her on the day she arrived at her student hall. Green had no real association with her, nor did she ever say she liked the color. Yet she wore that hoodie when they first met. He would later learn it had been with her since her GCSE years.
She arrived with more luggage than necessary, considering her family home was only a fifteen-minute train ride away. But she had never disclosed how much she disliked living with her parents—not when they first met, at least.
Cay saw her twice on move-in day. The hoodie hung loosely from her shoulders, barely clinging on. Her arms held two smaller bags; a pile of heavier luggage had been dumped near the hallway corner, perhaps by someone else—maybe Dylan, whom Cay hadn’t met yet. He tried to say hello, but she looked too tired to notice.773Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡjcHlWYpAWK
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She wore no makeup, save for the faintest mascara along her lashes.
She yawned and carried her bags past him without acknowledging his presence. Cay stood awkwardly between his door and hers. Did she see him? Did she ignore him?
Was she rude? Perhaps. But Cay knew not to judge a person based on one encounter.
That night, around seven—dinner time in both Malaysia and the UK—he ran into her again in the kitchen. She greeted him with a quick “Hi,” but the first syllable was high-pitched and echoed in the empty space. It startled Cay, who had just woken up from a nap.
Still groggy, he greeted her back with formal stiffness, forgetting he was in his comfort clothes. Jenna smirked. Her hoodie, once again, dangled loosely over her shoulders.
“You have a bit of a strange accent. I don’t mean to offend or anything. Where are you from?”
“Malaysia. You?”
“I’m from Frome—just south of Bath. Small town. Nothing special.”
She sniveled slightly but laughed, easing the tension.
Cay wasn’t much of a talker, especially in English. He feared he'd embarrass himself if the conversation went deeper.
“So... what are you having for dinner?” he asked, hoping to steer things into safer territory.
“Pasta. Convenient food. You?”
“Yeah. Same.”
Knowing they’d be stuck in the kitchen together for a few minutes made Cay nervous. English was still difficult for him. But Jenna was Asian. Maybe she spoke another language.
“I speak a bit of Cantonese. Learned from my family. But not Mandarin.”
“Yeah,” Cay replied. “We get assumed a lot. Stereotypes.”
People always assumed he spoke Mandarin.
“May I cook?” he asked gently.
“Oh! Sorry—I didn’t know you needed the hob.”
She stepped aside to make space. Their elbows nearly touched as they both stood at the counter.
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