After my trip to Europe, a lot of people asked how I could afford it.
Portraits of Porto, Portugal.
The theater is dark now. A solitary couple, with matching grey hued short haircuts share a cross look. Glancing behind them, they look at the girl, who is shamelessly drinking a tall glass of wine, munching on popcorn, and snapping pictures.
It was almost three years ago. A friend of mine called me with a life crisis. For some reason, she chose to confide in me. I remember that night fondly, and as to protect her privacy, I won’t go into too many details.
I’m dripping with sweat. My skin feels like the surface of a freshly baked cookie; warm to the touch, with the promise of crisping.
It’s a Tuesday. I’m sitting in Fullsteam, carefully sipping a plastic cup of water. I check my phone. She’s on her way.
It’s a Thursday evening, at dusk. The residential street I’m walking down is lovely. Cozy homes snuggled into hilltops. Vibrant red and yellow leaves scattered beneath cars, aside curbs.
One of the first things I do in an unfamiliar city? Scout a coffee shop. Stat.
Give Melissa an inch of directions, and she’ll walk a mile. Or six.
My dreams are coming true. As of February 4th, I’m officially working at the North Carolina Aquarium at Fort Fisher.