Once past the Bassicilica’s neighbourhood, the styles varied. This city had seen many renewal periods over its lifetime, some more successful than others. It was not uncommon to find early twentieth-century brick structures surrounded by towers of glass and steel. While discombobulated, she enjoyed the chaos, wondering how this all came to be.
She passed a coffee shop at the corner, which brought back memories of Elizabeth introducing her to the modern variations. She slowed to a stop, making sure that no one was behind her, lingering over that sign as that memory washed over her.
“I miss her,” Clara whispered.