By Myrna Abbas “Is he here yet?” said Theodora George running into the living room and raising her arms over her head as she hastily tried to adjust her dark, black curls. Her index finger tapped rhythmically against the window pane, as she scanned the dark streets of Milan which were decorated by headlights, creating bright dots that grew in size as they neared. “I can’t believe I’m going to meet him. I can barely contain myself!” exclaimed the 22-year-old university student as she was balancing on her tip toes, her palms pressed against the pane as she peered out the window. A convoy of vehicles suddenly came to a halt outside Theodora’s window. Police officers exited their vehicles and stood neatly along the side-walk Out of the first black car, a man in a suit hurried out of the passenger’s seat. He swung the back-seat door open, and stood firmly staring ahead. Theodora leaned forward, focusing on the open door. Suddenly, a wooden staff, decorated in gold, poked out the door and slammed onto the pavement. A gentle hand gripped it, as two feet were slowly planted on the ground. He rose, standing greatly…
