"Can you believe it?" she breathed, eyes wide enough to take in the whole panorama.
Venice was empty. The sun hazed behind a gauze of clouds, glinting off the bows of the gondolas that knocked rhythmically against their moors. As we walked across the worn cobbles, I pointed out the bridge of sorrows. Years ago, prisoners were taken from some sort of religious court to their plight, and their wails left echoes that hadn't quite dispersed yet.
The plaza was magnificent, rid of all people - and the pigeons were scarce too. The bell tower was mighty and the palace hunched like the gold-lined sarcophogas that it was.
"Let's get ice cream," I smiled as I linked my fingers with her slender digits. Looking over her shoulder with a laugh as I pulled her away down an alley, she caught up and our off balance footsteps rang. In an abandoned stall, we got two scoops each of creme de dogi ice cream and it didn't melt very
Writer and editor at a global public relations agency, living in Portland, OR
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