Starbucks before takeoff

 A polity of flowers. A foundation of fantasies that idealizes my footsteps upon my arrival at the Arlanda Airport. Taco Bell, letting the tray of fika and folktales follow my gaze towards my welcome sign. All smiles, after a depressing 16-hour flight, I enclose a gift in a handshake with the guilds; hence, celebrating my acceptance to the university. Volvo chassis fuses my index finger in froid, as you brush my shoulder to my wrist. Maigre's white sweater, a bandana, and a glistening razor-cut wavy blonde hair hijack my anxiety levels to love. You, a tennis star, are here to give me an autograph. I spent millions of dollars to serve bombs at my windows.  A little bit of sweat, a bit of sleek geometries, greened me to make it to the top 16. Anxieties of mental furniture deserted my 16 personalities  That pied me into princesstårta on my 16th birthday. Popcorn the past with a serve-och-volley, visualisera.

The weekend begins with your smile at a frozen yoghurt. You mix the doughs, batter the eggs, and bury my emotional motion sickness. The arrival of cappucino e brioche on your gingham obliterates our dark times of May and June. After 25 seconds of diligence, I think about your smile, the synchronous smile at the school bell, and the waves of rollercoasters that summated my second degree in 4 years. Before I leave for fencing, you whisper like our first eye contact during a sandbox session. Just come a little closer. Natural sights and the people who bark at your attempts at search  Won't follow you to the fences where I prayed to get myself up on my own two feet.  Can't wait to see you again at Arco della Pace.