Beautiful World, Where Are You

by Sally Rooney

I’m going to Rome next week, she said. Because the Italian translation of my book is coming out. I wonder if you’d like to come with me. He showed no surprise at the invitation. He put out his cigarette by rubbing the lit end on the wall of the shed in several repeated strokes. The dog let out one more yelp, down at the end of the garden. I don’t have any money, Felix said. Well, I can pay for everything. I’m rich and famous, remember? This drew a little smile. You are weird, he said. I don’t take that back. How long are you going for? I’m getting there on Wednesday and then coming home again Monday morning. But we can stay longer if you prefer. Now he laughed. Fucking hell, he said. Have you ever been to Rome? No. Then I think you should come, she said. I think you’d like it. How do you know what I would like? They looked at one another. It was too dark for either of them to glean much information from the other’s face, and yet they kept looking, and did not break off, as if the act of looking was more important than what they could see. I don’t, she said. I just think so. Finally he turned away from her. Alright, he said. I’ll come.

I dont know why but i think this is just such good writing