Fantastick - Carolina -

Romeo lowered the horn, his face heating up. "No. It’s for the person drawing the moth." "I'm Carolina," she said, stepping closer. "I'm Romeo. Fantastick. Truly, that's the name."

But like any good song, there was a bridge. Carolina received an offer she couldn't refuse: a two-year residency in Florence to restore a series of Renaissance banners. It was the opportunity of a lifetime, but it meant leaving the city, the garden, and Romeo. Fantastick - Carolina

Inside the lab, Carolina stopped her needle mid-stitch. She smiled, tucked her hair behind her ear, and walked toward the window. Romeo lowered the horn, his face heating up

"It’s a very... loud name, Romeo Fantastick," she smiled, and for the first time in his life, Romeo felt his internal rhythm sync perfectly with someone else's. "I'm Romeo

Romeo looked at his saxophone case. "And do what? Play jazz for the statues? They’re a tough crowd, Carolina." "They've never heard a Fantastick," she countered.

The months that followed were a blur of contrast. He took her to smoky basement clubs where the music didn't stop until the sun hit the sidewalk; she took him to quiet museum wings where they stood in front of centuries-old canvases in total silence. He taught her how to feel a bassline in her chest; she taught him how to see the thirteen different shades of green in a single leaf.

Romeo had a routine: a double espresso at dawn, three hours of practicing the saxophone, and a long walk through the botanical gardens. It was there, amidst the oversized ferns and the humid air of the greenhouse, that he first saw Carolina.