She sat at a café, early in the morning with the sun beating down on her dark glossy hair. Her eyes follow the little boys that run around the streets, chasing each other with sticks. She watches naïve tourists, chattering with a cunning street vendor who eventually will convince them to buy something that they would not need in the future. She listens to the merry voices inside the café as she orders her morning coffee. In a few minutes, she will order a croissant, lathered in Nutella and sprinkled with confectioner sugar. That, combined with the bitterness of the coffee will jump start her day. It is a ritual that she does every Sunday as she sits quietly in her seat, staring out of the cheerful streets of Venice. Her order arrives with incredible speed; the waiter had been expecting her arrival. She peruses her croissant, its surface sprinkled lightly with white powder. Dark and luscious Nutella peeks out from under the horns of her pastry. She took a bite; the sweet, chocolaty scent on her tongue sends her spiraling back into time.

When she opens her eyes, she is sitting in bed. The calendar reads Sunday, August 8th 1986; she had travelled two years back into time. The woman looks out the window, the sun shinning brightly into her room. Yes, she knew that today would be the day she meet the man of her dreams. Hurrying through her morning habit, she runs out into the Venetian streets, laughing, smiling brightly. In two minutes, she will encounter a man roughly six feet tall, tanned with incredibly toned muscles and a smile that makes a girl’s heart stutter. She stares at her feet as she walks briskly on until she bumps her head into someone’s wide torso. She feigns surprise as she looks into the stranger’s eyes. The corners of his mouth turn up slowly as he takes her in. She stands at a mere five feet, with soft brown eyes to match her smooth, dark hair. Her features are sharp, yet they merge together to make a beautiful painting. Her dainty hands fold into one another as she casts her eyes down. His heart stutters as he realizes that this is the girl he’s been looking for.

The couple walk quietly along the street; they don’t speak but they knew what each other was thinking already. The boy, for he thought himself a man, blushes as he attempts to hold her hand. Embarrassed, she turns her head the other way, smiling joyously. The budding love grows between the two of them; their silence feeding each other’s silent thoughts. He motions for them to take a gondola and holds out his hand to her. When they touch, heat travels through both of their arms. She quickly steps into the little boat and arranges herself neatly into the cushions while he settles in less gracefully, dropping himself next to her with cumbersome speed. The gondolier takes a quick glance at the young couple, knowing in his hear that they will soon become lovers. He smiles to himself, tips his hat back and bellows out a rich bass note. The girl blushes again, knowing what would happen next. He will try to take her hand into his and she will let him. The two would lock eyes and they will tell each other their life stories while the gondolier continues on with his song. As they pass a café, the man stops the driver, hands him some bills and pulls her to her feet. He leads her into the coffee shop and orders a Nutella filled croissant. There, the youngsters share the delicious pastry, enjoying their first date. He wipes a drop of chocolate from her lips and she opens her eyes.

She is sitting at the café again, alone. She stares at the croissant, a memory, so distant. She knew that she would never see him again. But for the last two years, on every Sunday, she would remember their encounter. She thought of their promising love that never grew into something else. He was gone and she knew it. But she reminisced about that day, every Sunday, and she sees him in her mind as she is sure that he sees her every Sunday as well.