Surrounded by her posse, cameras firmly in hand and laughter bubbling out of mouths, the faces weren't important. The feeling of a group of good friends. That's what was important. The idea of comfort, but in sight-seeing.
In being somewhere else with a vague remembrance of Venice, and then she locks eyes with a man. A local to this mind-space.He can't tear his eyes away either. As he approaches the tourist, her friends fade away, leaving her alone in this alien dreamscape.
"Do I know you?" He asks of her. One half of a black mustache hangs out below his left nostril, braided and poking awkwards to gravity.
"No. I don't know you either" she responds with no hesitation, now slightly flustered.
"Then why do I feel like--"
Awakened by a need to pee. She wonders if it was dream-walking.
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