They’d missed the last bus, and now they’d have to walk.
Pleasant and quaint in the daytime, the centuries-old neighborhood with
narrow, cobbled streets was something else after dark.
The night was for the dangerous, the desperate, and the foolish, and
they pretended to look dangerous, all the while knowing they were just
desperately foolish.
They made it through the cobbled maze, avoiding eye contact with the
disturbing things lurking in the shadows.
All that was left was to cross under the bridge. They took each other’s
hand.
Perched on the underside of the bridge, the pterodactyl-sized mosquitoes
waited silently.
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