Taste of Italy

C H A P T E R o n e

                                                                         . . .

Her fingers hit the keys on the keyboard at the speed of light. The words she held on the tip of her tongue moved toward her fingertips, hanging for dear life. The words continued spilling out of her, flowing so smoothly.

Until her writing process became interrupted.

"Do you ever turn your phone on?" her mother said, barging into her bedroom.

Her hands hovered over the keyboard of her laptop. "When I'm writing, I'm in the zone. I don't want to be interrupted, like now." She turned around and stared into her mother's eyes, hoping she would get the idea to leave.

The irritated woman sitting at her computer desk hated all the interruptions around her. Either the noise was too loud or someone needed her. She wanted to sit down and type. Not worrying about anything. Not caring. Letting everything fade into a dark corner of her mind, being pushed away from reality.

If only, she thought.

"Well your sister called you. Maybe you can get out of the zone for some time to talk to her?"

Iris didn't like this. Not because she didn't want to talk to her sister at all, but because she was in the middle of writing her book. She loved being in the zone, being able to see everything from her mind get written onto paper. Every writer yearned for that, right? Or could it just be her?

But since she took longer shifts at the restaurant for the past few weeks, she had less time to write. Work became too much and she couldn't keep up.

"Ugh," she mumbled. "Fine. I'll call her."

Her mother smiled as she left the room, but without closing the door behind her. Really? Does no one close doors anymore? How hard is it? Her heart started to pump a little harder as the anger boiled inside her. Calm down, Is. Just breathe. Breathe.

Turning back around to her computer screen, she sighed, hoping to forget about the door as it wasn't important and shouldn't make her feel so angry. Instead, she focused her attention on the idea of calling her sister. She didn't want to call Jane because there was nothing to talk about. Unless? No. There can't be anything.

Iris, though wanting to decide against it, decided to take her phone out of her pocket. She turned on the device, waited for it to come on, and went through her contacts. Upon finding her sister's name, Iris pressed the "call" button.

"There you are!" Jane's voice shrieked into the receiver. "I've been trying to get a hold of you since like, forever ago!"

"Oh, calm your tits, Jay. I've been busy—"

"Busy writing? Yeah, whatever."

Iris rolled her eyes, knowing that her older sister didn't approve of her choice of hobby, or rather, an aspiring career. "Did I call just to be harassed by you?" Her heart was beating fast, wanting to get off the phone.

The impatient girl had a tingling sensation forming throughout her body. It went through her feet, legs, arms, and fingertips. Maybe it was because she was having withdrawals from not writing? But that didn't make sense as it wasn't that long ago before her mother interrupted her.

"Let me think about that . . ." It was silent for a moment. "No, not that I recall. However, I did want to ask you a question. Would you like to go to Italy with Kelly and me?"