New God Flow.1

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Florence was beautiful at night, yes—like all of Italy, basically. But after a 15-hour flight, you didn’t have the energy to go out for a drink alone that night when you arrived.

You were so tired that you didn’t even go to the hotel you were going to stay at for the rest of those days. Instead, you ended up in a modest hotel run by a kind and hospitable older woman, who even helped you carry your luggage even though you’d insisted she didn’t need to. As a thank you, the next morning upon departure, you not only paid for the room, but also left her a sizable tip to look after your luggage while you did all your chores.

So, feeling full and prepared, you hit the streets of Florence to make all the preparations for Dani’s arrival the next day. The first thing, of course, was breakfast, and your choice was the Pasticceria Nencioni, a small dessert shop in the Sant'Ambrogio neighborhood, near the city center. The normal thing would have been to walk, since that’s what you always did, but you were so far away that you ended up calling a taxi.

You were hoping for a peaceful day, but as you got out of the taxi and walked into the pedestrian street, a couple of guys stopped you to ask for photos. It didn’t bother you; you were always very friendly and receptive to people who knew you and loved your job. But you didn’t expect someone to recognize you on that remote street. It was to be expected in places like Rome or Milan, full of tourists and people of all cultures, but Florence was slightly more niche. A mere coincidence? Maybe.

What was certain was that you had to start getting used to the fact that your popularity wasn’t the same as it had been two years ago, when you were barely known by chronically online folks. Now things were quite different. And you didn’t know how to feel about it.

After the minor setback, you walked down the street until you reached the small pastry shop, whose facade consisted solely of its awning with the name on it and the glass doors wide open, giving it a modest and welcoming appearance. The place was already bustling with activity at that hour, so you waited patiently in line to order, your mouth already watering with the smell of baked sugar, hot butter and hazelnut.

Your breakfast ended up being a couple of pieces of torta al semolino —a traditional pastry filled with semolina cream and covered in chocolate—a cream-filled croissant, a cappuccino, and a small glass of water that Italians always served with their coffee.

Many customers just placed their orders and left after paying, so inside the pastry shop there were a couple of free tables next to the tall wooden display case to the left of the main counter, filled with antique bottles, books, small statues, and collectibles. Although you usually sat near the front, this time you went to a table at the back so you could do what you wanted to do in peace.

It must have been around midnight in L.A, which meant Wony was already at her hotel. Your girlfriend answered the video call as quickly as ever.

“Hi honey!” Wony greeted, walking across her room to lie down on her bed. She was wearing the same pink sweater she’d been wearing in the photos she sent you while you were asleep.

“Hey, darling,” you smiled at your phone screen, adding sugar to your cappuccino. “Caught you busy?”

“Oh nah, I just got back to the hotel,” Wony replied, and looked away for a moment to grab something before looking at you again. Judging by the shape of what she put in her mouth, you guessed it was her multivitamins. “How was your flight?”

“Terrible,” you sighed, and took a sip of the cappuccino, careful not to burn your tongue. “I didn’t get to sleep, for some reason. I just read and watched movies the whole trip.”

“Oh my,” Wony pouted and raised her eyebrows in concern as you scooped up a piece of cake with your spoon and brought it to your mouth. “My poor boy… At least you slept when you landed?”

“Not where I had planned, but yeah,” you replied, your gaze momentarily on your breakfast. The cream-filled croissant was your next victim.

“Not where you had planned?”

“Seeing as I couldn’t handle myself, I told the taxi driver to take me to the first decent hotel he found,” you spoke with your mouth full, so you covered it with the back of your hand to avoid being unpleasant. You quickly swallowed. “And so I ended up in a quaint little place run by a kind old granny named Giuseppina.”

Wony laughed, making you smile.

“ Giuseppina?” she repeated. Her Italian pronunciation was improving every day.

“Oh yeah,” you nodded. “A real sweetheart. And how are you? How’s Tommy Jeans treating you?”

“Wonderful!” Wony responded, her face lighting up. “They were so nice to me. And they gave me a ton of snacks and clothes.”

“Clothes you’d model for me, right?”

“I always model my new clothes for you, babe. By the way, where are you?”

“Oh right,” you picked up your phone, which was leaning against the vase in the middle of the table, and put the back camera on to show her the bakery, just for a few seconds so as not to upset anyone. “A bakery near the center. It’s amazing. I have to take you here sometime.”

“Oh gosh, it’s so pretty!” Wony said as you put the front camera back on. “You’re having breakfast, aren’t you? Let me see.”

As if you were at a mukbang, you picked up both plates with the cakes and the croissant and showed them to the camera.

“Damn, that’s yummy,” Wony sighed. “Now I’m hungry.”

“You have snacks to spare, right?”

“Yeah, but none of them are that cake.”

“Well, I know the recipe. I can make it for you when we’re home.”

Wony remained silent, just looking at you with her head tilted. They were eyes full of love. Whenever she looked at you like that, you kissed her out of pure instinct. You wished you could have done it at that moment.

“My sweet boy, have I ever told you how much I love you?” Wony said, making you blush like an idiot in the middle of the pastry shop.

“All the time,” you smiled.

“Great, because I don’t want you to ever forget it.”

“I’ll never forget it because you love me as much as I love you, darling.”

Wony brought her camera to her lips and covered it with kisses before returning to the usual shot.

“You’re not prepared for how clingy I’ll be in Paris,” she said. “Poor you.”

“Oh come on, you say that like I don’t love it.”

“I’m just warning you, sweetie.”

The next few minutes were spent talking about your respective flights and things that happened along the way. You’d already finished your cake and croissant, and there was only a little cappuccino left when you saw the time.

“Honey, I should go,” you said, stacking the empty plates. “I still have a lot of things to do.”

“Okay, baby,” Wony replied. “I’ll take a bath and go to sleep. Will you be awake when I wake up?”

“Most likely. Will you wake up early?”

“8 in the morning, I think,” Wony nodded.

“About 5 in the afternoon here, great.”

“I’ll text you when I get up then,” Wony waved goodbye and blew you a kiss. “Bye baby, I love youuu! Don’t forget to send me pictures. Of you, if possible.”

“You have my word, honey,” you blew the kiss back. “Love you too. Ciao.”

After hanging up the video call, you sat for a moment checking your messages and email. Sohyun had sent you pictures of your cats and asked if everything had gone well on the flight. Sully had also texted you with the same intention. Dani, for her part, had told you her flight from Seoul was leaving at midnight—around 5 p.m. there in Florence—and that she would arrive tomorrow morning.

But the one you didn’t expect a message from, considering how busy she must be with all the preparations for her trip to Milan, was Rina.