"It's been sixty weeks since I saw Vienna"
"I don't belong here" "Yes you do. With me!"
Vienna is a traveller. She saw the whole world, but there's so much more to see.
One day, she mets a boy who shows her a feeling she missed so much.
The train ride was silent. He looks up at her and smiles.
She's looking down in the book she held the first day they met. Pages were filled with drawings and song texts. She loves to be creative. It helps her to forget. As long as she holds this book, she's in her own world.
"Where will you stay? In Brighton I mean. You told me about your family situation back then"
She looks up to him with a smile on her face.
"I will stay at a hotel while I search for furniture. My father gave me the house we lived in before he died. I sold all the stuff in our house to have more money."
He samples her while she speaks. Nothing changed in those sixty weeks. She still looks the same. Her thoughts went back to the evening he talked about. Her memories flashed back slowly.
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The nights were cold there in Santa Cruz. Days went by quickly for both.
They saw each other every day and still couldn't get enough of it. It's like a drug for both. When they're together they feel complete. And when they're apart the time moves slowly.
Wilbur knows that Vienna will leave in two days but still couldn't help the feeling he felt so often when he saw her.
For him the world is perfect when she's around. But for her, it isn't enough. She can't be at one place more than two weeks. She needs to move on. And he knows that.
The landscape looks beautiful from up there. They're climbed stairs after stairs. She lives by her uncle for the week she spends in Santa Cruz. Blankets put down at the floor on the roof of the big building. They sit down laughing and talking. The lighter gave a little flame while she flamed the cigarette in her mouth. The smoke went down her lungs and quickly came back through her mouth. He looks at her taking the cigarette inhaling the smoke in his own lungs. She takes it back and put it on her lips again.
"When did you start smoking?" The question came over his lips. She looks down at the floor beneath her feet.
"I started when I was sixteen. My Mother died when I was six and I had panic attacks, so I thought about it. Tried different things. I was drunk every other day. And high every weekend. When my father died two weeks before my eighteenth birthday my mind came back to reality. I was addicted to drugs, and I didn't want it. I threw it all away and started smoking instead. When my body came down of all the drugs, I started packing. My father always wanted to travel with me. See the whole world. He wrote a letter to me. He knew that he would die but didn't tell me. He wrote down the route he wanted to go and where he hid the money for it. He wanted to wait till I'm eighteen. So I leaved the house I grew up and started moving on. I'll visit the places he wanted to visit. I put as much joy as I can in it so he will feel what he should've felt. The joy we would've had. I'm not angry or mad at him that he died. He was ill. But I want him to feel joy, even though he's dead. I still have many places to visit, and my last stop will be London. I don't know what I will do after that, but I hope I can move on."
He looks at her with a sad smile on his face, while she looks at him happier than ever.
"Why did you tell me your complete story?"
"I trust you. That's why"
The days went by quickly. With her suitcase in her hands, she stands there at the airport. The taler boy in front of her with a sad smile on his face.
"Will I see you again?"
She smiles.
"Maybe. But for now, I'll say goodbye."
He holds her hand in his. Slightly smiling. He's happy as long she's happy. He fell in love with her, and she fell in love with him. Both know it but they knew it wouldn't work. They must move on. He looks at her slowly letting go of her hand. He doesn't want to, but he has to do it, for their best. He steps back smiling. She looks at him smiling with a tear tripping down her checks.
