Romanza In Rome

|07|

•Lilah•

A bright yolky sun spilled over the old city of Rome. The decade old stone buildings cast shadows over the new ones, spilling over them in their proud grandness. Blue vespas whizzed down in the streets, splashing the puddles left behind by the rain of the previous night. The autumn trees stood more proud washed of all their silt and mud. Orange and yellow leaves covered the fresh green grass in the large park infront of the residential area. Luxury cars pulling out of the underground parking as well dressed men and women, alike headed out fir a fresh start of the week.

Lilah stirred under her bedsheets. Her hand slammed the ringing alarm clock. It was an odd sight in this day and age, of extravagant technology to keep a clock that woke you up. However, Lilah was often referred to as an old soul, and she enjoyed keeping things in neat lines. A phone for answering calls and keeping contact with family — hence why she had no social media accounts. A clock to ring each morning at seven thirty, on the dot. A chef her father hired to feed her and a house maid hired by her mother to help keep the apartment near.

Stepping out from the cotton sheets, she took off the silk eye mask. Taking her phone off of charging and sliding her feet in to the fuzzy peace slippers she entered the large en-suite. Her eyes ran over the schedule plastered onto the marble wall of the bathroom.
Take a shower at night? Check.
Brush your teeth? Check.
Wash your face? Check.
Use a pad if on your period — not check.
Lilah tapped her head and opened the cabinet under vanity. Pulling out the thick period underpants, they were the only thing that felt comfortable and did not chaff her thighs.

For months after starting her first period, Lilah had suffered in silence. It was only when her mother found her crying did she explain how uncomfortable she felt. It took a year for them to find what she felt comfortable with, and ever since then she stuck with it. Like a routine. Routines were good, and she knew that. Order worked in her favor, no one could surprise her. Working mechanically, she washed her hands with soap and counted to a hundred under her breath before rubbing the soap off.

She tied her hair into low bun, the short strands of her once short fringe escaped the hold and fell against her cheek. Her hands massaged sunscreen onto her skin, the left hand rummaging through the organized drawer to find her tried and trusted peachy-nude lipstick. It went will with the dress she had picked out for the day. A pure white silk dress, it had a deep neckline the shape of an obtuse pentagon. The shoulder's padded and fit her slender arms like a second skin. The dress reached a few inches below her calves and a big belt made of a thick leather sat in the crook of her waist. Sliding in the green emerald earrings — a symbol of good luck she believed, Lilah passed herself a small smile.

Stepping out, her eyes were trained on the large digital clock that sat by her bedside. It was eight minutes past ten. She nodded in approval, on time. Her feet slid into the white heels she had picked out last night and a soft floral scent was rubbed onto her collarbones. With her bag and phone in hand, she stepped out of her bedroom and into the living room. On the kitchen counter sat her piping hot breakfast. Buttered toast and a cup of coffee. Simple, and plain. Her chef, a man in his late fifties seemed to have left and she sighed in relief. It was still awkward to make contact with people other than her family, but she knew she would get the grip of it all, soon.

Eight forty am meant it was almost five in the morning in Lahore. Her parents would be waking up soon, ringing her up as soon as they did. Turning her ipad on, she dug into her breakfast, sipping on the roasted coffee bean, coffee, staring out and watching the Roman sun cover the sky. The deep blue turning paler by the second, and she knew it would soon turn a bright gold. Like mango ice cream in summers, the sky reminded her of home and gave her peace that she was not all alone.