The Best Bite of Rome

<p>We sat on the edge of high seats, resting elbows and ales on a wine barrel that had been fashioned into a table. Pigeons cooed on the cobblestones around our feet, foraging for crumbs and shards of cracker crisp crust that rained to the ground as we bit into our sandwiches. I had to hunch over parted legs to keep from covering myself in falling arugula and dripping olive oil as I ate. Mike leaned similarly across from me, his sandwich partially exposed but still neatly cradled in its parchment wrapping, a wad of napkins clutched in his right hand to wipe the corners of his mouth as he sipped and chewed. Over his shoulder I watched my romanticized vision of Rome play like a scrolling vignette, fairytale pictures unfurling from the pages of a luxury travel magazine.</p> <p><a href="https://medium.com/@michelleluelo/the-best-bite-of-rome-df290d3a14fe"><strong>Read More</strong></a></p>