Your life is a mess, an absolute Level 10 disaster. You’ve lost your job, and there might be pending charges after you borrowed your employer’s Hermes silk dress and Prada pumps. You’ve got no place to live after your thirteenth-floor walk-up Hell’s Kitchen sublet has decided you aren’t worth the trouble after you miss rent for the third time. But that’s beside the point. This is the perfect opportunity to change your life. So you book a trip to Tuscany even though you only have $38.62 in your bank account. It’s cool, you’re gonna Klarna it. When else are you gonna have the opportunity to go to Italy and live your best soft-girl life?
Turn to Page 1.
Page 1: Arrival
You’ve made it safe and sound. The flight wasn’t too bad if you ignore the fourteen hours in coach where an eighty-year-old man fell asleep on your shoulder and snored in your ear. None of that matters now. You’ve made it to Italy. The sun is shining, and you’re in your cutest sundress. It doesn’t matter that it seems like you are the only Black person in the airport. You are ready to start your adventure.
If you’re questioning everything and googling “How likely will it be that I end up on a murder podcast?” turn to Page 2
If you’re ready to start your glow-up era in Italy, turn to Page 3.
Page 2: Google Results
According to Google, there’s a high probability that you will go missing and end up on a podcast. Nope, scratch that. You aren’t blue-eyed, nor are you blonde, so chances are there won’t be a podcast. You’ll be pushing it if you make it onto the local news. But that doesn’t matter because you don’t have any money to get an earlier flight back home.
Turn to Page 3.
Page 3: Main Character Energy
The town you’re staying at is an idyllic, sweet town with friendly people. Ignore the fact that they are staring at you, and that almost nobody speaks English. You think the language barrier is charming. And don’t pay attention to the fact that now four people have referred to you as “Beyoncé.” In some cultures, racial blindness is a compliment.
If you interpret every stare as cultural admiration, turn to Page 4.
If you consider maxing out your emergency credit card for a return flight, turn to Page 5.
Page 4: The Meet-Cute
You meet a man. I mean, of course you meet a man. Secretly, this is what you were hoping would happen. He has forearms, and they are muscular. He has opinions about wine and Tuscan bread. He says, “You’re different from other American women,” even though he just met you an hour ago.
If you decide this is it, and you’ve found your one true love, turn to Page 6.
If you hear the metaphorical screams of your girls in the group chat, turn to Page 7.
Page 5: You’re Still Broke
You check your emergency credit card account, and you actually have a negative balance.
Turn to Page 4.
Page 6: The Soft Life Attempt
You’re having dinner with Mr. Forearms. There’s wine. There’s that Tuscan bread. Mr. Forearms is mansplaining tomatoes like you’ve never heard of the fruit before. You don’t interrupt, because you can only understand every fourth word anyway. Now, he wants to touch your hair.
If you decide to enjoy a little bit of petting, turn to Page 8.
If you start remembering why women choose the bear, turn to Page 9.
Page 7: The Group Chat Blows Up
Your sorority sister says you’re straight tripping. Your cousin tells you to get your man. Your childhood best friend wants to know if you’ll bring her back some truffle salt. Either way, this is pointless. You can’t leave yet anyway.
Turn to Page 6.
Page 8: The Movie Moment
He walks you back to the hotel you’re staying at. The sun is setting, and there’s a hint of romance in the air. Mr. Forearms pulls you in for a kiss. It is full of passion and longing and not a small amount of drool. Mr. Forearms pulls away, spit hanging down his lip. “Hey,” he says. “Has anyone ever told you that you look like Beyoncé?”
If you decide to overlook this—screw that—you’re not overlooking this, turn to Page 9.
Page 9: The Non-Dramatic Exit
You leave Tuscany feeling like a new woman. Well, almost a new woman if you count the fact that you’re still coming back home jobless, homeless, and with a new cold sore on your lip. But it doesn’t matter. You’re proud of choosing you and finding yourself in Tuscany.
