Unknown Sender

Elowen:

After a few hours on air, the plane finally landed. We got down from it with the bell of his aides, and they escorted us to a car that was on standby. The driver stuffed our bags in the trunk, then he got in and zoomed off.

“How do you like Italy?” Dante asked.

Leaning back in the plush leather seat, I stole a glance at the unfamiliar Sicilian landscape blurring past

“I think it is incredible,” I said with a wide smile curving my lips.

Sure, I had visited once, but Sicily had left a deep impression on my heart. The city was rich with the culture of my people, and it made me feel at home.

Even the honking cars and the chaotic symphony of street vendors felt strangely comforting. It reminded me of the stories my papa told me before he passed.

I forgot the sad part of Sicily was the fact that the man who showed me this great city was no more.

“Elowen,” Dante called out, causing me to realize that I zoned out.

“You’ve been zoning out lately, and I can’t tell what is wrong,” he sa