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A Good Trip To Rio

The plane was about to land in London after a few beautiful days in Rio de Janeiro. These were the first vacations Rosi took by herself, without her mother or any of her sisters, as a free and independent woman. As she reviewed the photos she had taken on her phone and reminisced about the moments she had experienced, there was no doubt in her mind that it had been a lovely first trip.

Rosi knew from a friend that there was an important competition in Rio, and she took advantage of the moment to enjoy a renewed social life. There were nights out, afternoons chatting in the sun on the beach, drinks, dancing—everything.

“No kissing. And don’t even mention anything more” her sister Ru would probably say. The truth was that Rosi was still too absent-minded and childish to notice whether a guy or a girl liked her. She could barely keep track of what day it was. How could she know? But laughter was abundant. Especially that evening at the bar that ended in the early morning, when she inexplicably dressed up as a flamenco dancer and danced on a table. Rosi fervently hoped those photos wouldn’t make it to social media. And let’s not even talk about that little incident with the police, a chicken, and six bags of potato chips! She didn’t want to remember it.

The announcement came that they had finally arrived at London’s airport. Indeed, the sun was hidden behind gray clouds that occasionally let a fine drizzle fall. Rosi sighed. There would always be a second visit to Rio.

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