Loukoumades

Eleni

I blink awake in the morning with my mouth watering. Cold sheets. No Dante.

I check my phone and find the usual text. At Piacere today, had to leave early, news when he gets home. I drop my phone with a groan. My stomach grumbles. I think I spent all night dreaming about loukoumades, these honey puffs Mama used to make for my birthday, or whenever she was in a really good mood. The air even smells like them, as if I brought the memory from my dreams into reality.

If Dante was here, I could have convinced him to drive around to find some. Instead, I’m just going to have to throw myself on Seb’s mercy. Or, more accurately, the mercy of Seb’s alarm clock. He’s rarely awake before noon.

My mood sours as I get dressed and discover my favorite T-shirt fell out of the laundry basket before it got taken this week, so it’s still dirty. I pull on one of Dante’s and scowl at myself in the mirror as I brush my teeth. Today sucks. Maybe I’ll skip schoolwork and catch up with a few of my cap