The tiny restaurant in Barcelona was busy.
Conversing diners, shouts and calls to waiters, popping corks from bottles of wine, the clink of glasses, drinkers’ long bouts of laughter. Chefs cooked the favorite local foods and let the timeless scents of Spanish paprika, heavy garlic, and saffron waft from the kitchen.
In the middle of everything was Christy.
Christy and her friend, Marsala, ate under an awning strung with red and yellow and blue lights, that put the patio under a warm glow. Christy nibbled on her Paella Valenciana and Gazpacho and sipped her Sauvignon Blanc. Yet, among all the wonderful food and the joviality of the dinners, Christy was trapped between depression, joy, and a fear of missing everything. In two days, she would be heading back to Williston Falls, North Dakota. Tonight, she was attempting to soak in as much of Barcelona as possible.
“I am going to miss this city,” she told Marsala in a sad voice. “What I need is a last ride through Barcelona.”
“I’ve been telling you for weeks now to rent one of those electric bike thingies. They’re everywhere. Then go wherever you want.” She raised her glass of red wine as a salute to her smart idea. “For me, I’m here for another few bottles of wine.”