Lea woke Clemence up early, dragging her out of bed before she could protest too much. “Come on,” she said, pulling open the curtains. “We’ll be late if you don’t move.”
Clemence groaned dramatically, shielding her eyes from the sunlight. “Whose idea was this again?”
“Mine,” Lea said, grinning as she tugged the blanket away.
By mid-morning, the two of them were standing by the bus, part of a small group of strangers: couples, an elderly pair with a camera, a family with two restless children. The bus itself wasn’t flashy, but it was painted a cheerful yellow, with wide windows to take in the view.
The guide, a lively young woman with a voice made for storytelling, promised them two days of food and history. “You’ll leave knowing not only what this city tastes like,” she said, “but also
