The Trevi Fountain was brimming with human activity. There were vacationers taking pictures of their posing subjects, children and adults splashed water on each other playfully while lovers gazed deeply into each others’ eyes smiling. And still others closed their eyes, making a wish before tossing a coin over their shoulders into the famous fountain.

Abbei heeded none of the sights and sounds around her. Today was her last day in her beloved Rome. By this time tomorrow she would be airborne bound for New York. From there she would catch a flight to San Diego. Home. She should, at the least, be looking forward to seeing Nana after so long a time. But she couldn’t muster up a single warm feeling about home or seeing Nana. She had always felt so unimportant to her grandmother.

Nana hadn’t written her once while she lived in Rome. But she wrote now, wrote not to expect her at the airport. Abbei would have to take a bus from the airport to their little apartment in East San Diego. Nana had more important things to attend to. She was needed at the convelesant home where she worked and couldn’t possibly take the day off. Not even for the granddaughter she hadn’t seen in five years and spoken with only a handful of times.

Abbei tried to take a cleansing breath but found she couldn’t. Like an insidious poisonous gas, the old feelings spread, smothering her. Old feelings of frustration, rejection, loneliness, and being unlovable engulfed her. She clutched at her throat, forcing air into her lungs, barely containing a sob.

“No!” She shook her head in a defiant protest, remembering one of her favorite heroines, Scarlett O’Hara, adopting her frame of mind. “I won’t think about Nana today. I’ll think about her tomorrow.”

With all the false bravado she could muster, she pasted a smile on her face, turning her back to the fountain; she dug into her purse and pulled out a coin.

Shutting her eyes, she tossed it over her shoulder; desperately wanting to believe the old superstition that doing so insured your return to Rome one day.

Before she could close her purse, she was shoved brusquely aside. “We are scheduled to do a photo shoot here. Make way for Amario. Make way!” A shrill effeminate, yet decidedly male voice rang in her ear, the accent pure Italian. The jostling startled Abbei, but this was Rome. Camera crews were always fighting, pedestrians and motorists alike, for space to shoot their models. Today was no different. She turned away from the male Prima Dona and his crew smiling and ran down the steps, blue-black hair shining and flowing in the wind. Her taxi was waiting and she was determined to enjoy the last few hours in her adopted home.

Amario saw the blur of midnight blue black hair in his peripheral vision and turned to satisfy his curiosity. A woman with a lush bottom and shapely legs was getting into a taxi. He stood motionless, her long wild mane captivating him.

“Amario, we can’t start the shoot without you.” a voice called out to him.

He turned, smiling. “So sorry, I was day dreaming.” And what a dream, he thought.

“Please!” the male Prima Dona squealed. “Stop with the daydreaming. You are needed here.”

“Of course. I am com…” He trailed off as he turned for one last look but the taxi had disappeared. He shook his head wondering if the black haired beauty was just a figment of an overactive imagination.