Josiah sat alone at a café in Florence, sketchbook in hand, as the golden light bathed the cobblestone streets. The French artist had come to Italy for inspiration, but so far, his pages remained blank.

“Struggling with something?” a voice asked, smooth with a lilting Italian accent.

Josiah looked up to see a man with sun-kissed skin and dark, wavy hair standing beside him. His smile was warm, and his eyes sparkled with curiosity. His face are so feminine yet still have that boyish look on his face. Josiah also notice thats his very slim

“I’m... searching for the right spark” Josiah admitted, closing his sketchbook