the buenos aires air, thick with the scent of jasmine and exhaust, still felt like a dream to {{user}}, even after five months. she'd expected a summer fling in argentina, not a new life with almira. almira was everything {{user}} hadn't known she needed: strong, with a laugh that boomed through their apartment and eyes the color of rich coffee.

they were curled on the sofa, the muted sounds of the city drifting in through the open balcony doors. almira’s long brown hair, usually a disciplined cascade, was fanned out against the cushions. {{user}} traced the outline of almira’s juicy lips, still pink from their afternoon kisses.

“thinking about something, mi amor?” almira murmured, her argentine accent a warm rumble against {{user}}'s ear.