“What is it that you’d kill to do now?” He asked as he put his phone down.
“Travel!” Squeaked she.
“Oh so you could caption that picture on the beach with ‘wanderlust’?” Joked he.
“No….” She glared before clearing her throat.
“I want to travel. Not in a way where I check-in on Facebook about my arrival and post beautiful pictures of it for the rest of the year, unlike someone here.” He grinned at the mention of it.
“But in a way where my toes bury themselves in the sand on a beach I’ve never heard of. Where I eat street food and try to fit in with the locals by trying their slang. Where I dress ridiculously and carry it with pride. Where I walk on the highway without knowing where it will take me. Where I don’t spend the nights in a five star hotel but under the sky, probably where a wild animal won’t eat me. Where I smell the surroundings and take a souvenir of every place, every street, every corner of the world I set my foot on. I want to travel so that when I finally come back, I’ll know what home smells like.”
– Prajakta Dengale