Siena

3|Juliet's Secrataries

Zayn and I hardly leave the hotel for the first few days of our trip. It's like we're two rabbits in heat. Each time we try to be productive we find ourselves tangled in between the sheets again. I'm itching to go sightseeing in the city, but Zayn always finds a way to distract me. My father wasn't lying when he said Zayn was a charmer.

"Babe," I call out as I exit the washroom and walk into the living room. "I was thinking we could go out tonight. I read online that there's going to be a showing of Phantom of the Opera at 7pm in the Arena di Verona. We can see that. "

"Yeah, yeah sure later. Right now I'm busy finalizing the details of the contract," Zayn brushes me off as he types away on his computer.

I fight the urge to roll my eyes and settle for a sigh instead. "Okay, well I'm going to do a little exploring, so I'll meet you back here at 6pm, and we'll go to the arena together," I tell him. "Order our tickets please."

"Yeah, you go ahead and do that, and I'll order the tickets. See you later, Sof," Zayn replies, his eyes never leaving the screen of his computer.

Still, I press a kiss to his cheek and grab my purse before heading out the door. I fish for the tourist pamphlet I took from the front desk downstairs in my purse and flip through it. Verona is a place rich in history, but I decide visiting Shakespeare's balcony for Romeo and Juliet wouldn't be a terrible location to start. I place the pamphlet inside my notebook when I'm done with it and scurry down the entrance steps of the hotel.

I pass by a flea market on the street on my way to the balcony and make a note to pick up some food for me and Zayn when I return. I read in the pamphlet that Shakespeare's balcony is one of the most popular tourist destinations in Verona because people go there to write letters to Juliet. Thankfully, it isn't a hassle to get there.

I take in everything around me with amazement. I see women--and quite a few men too--of all different ages scattered around the courtyard with a pen and paper clutched in their hands. On the balcony, a woman who looks like she's in her early twenties is reciting lines from the play Romeo and Juliet in Italian. My vision shifts just below the balcony, and I notice handwritten letters decorate the stone wall, reminding me of the post-it notes at the Union Square station in New York.

As I approach the wall, I see a distraught young woman post her letter while tears stream down her cheeks. The sight causes my heart to ache which prompts me to ask her why she's crying.

She answers me back in Italian. "Il mio ragazzo... ha rotto con me...E-ero innamorata di lui," The young woman pants between cries as she travels down the path I used to get to the courtyard.

I frown, trying to figure out what she just said, but I quickly become distracted by the sight of a woman dressed in a crisp white blouse and knee-length black skirt carrying an open basket. She approaches the wall connected to Shakespeare's balcony while humming softly. I watch the lady peel the letters off the wall one by one with curiosity and place them into her basket. Once the wall is vacant of all letters, she starts walking along the path under the arch to leave the courtyard.

So many questions are running through my mind. Where is she taking their letters? Did these people write expecting a response or simply just to vent? Under the guise of my journalistic instinct, I follow the woman carrying the basket full of letters hoping to find answers.

•

After ten minutes of walking, the woman enters a restaurant called Celeste, and I don't hesitate to follow her inside. She ascends these wooden stairs located in the back of the room and disappears behind a glass door at the top. I survey the room to make sure no one is watching me before I climb the stairs.