Stepping Out Into The Warm Italian Sun
Customs was a formality, and I soon found myself standing at the baggage claim. My suitcase appeared on the carousel almost immediately thanks to the priority handling tag.
I hauled it off the belt and navigated through the bustling arrivals hall. The automatic doors slid open, and I stepped out onto the busy sidewalk.
The warm Italian sun hit my face, instantly chasing away the lingering chill of the American winter. The air smelled of espresso and exhaust.