A Wrong Turn

Only the eerie echo of my footsteps cut through the muggy silence. I already knew I must have taken a wrong turn when the floodlit streets had changed to sparsely lit lanes, which, in turn, had morphed into these narrow unlit alleyways. My vain aspiration that this dull, oil-soaked waterway would lead me back to the relative security of the Grand Canal now seemed flawed. 

With each neglected building I passed, my anxiety grew. How I wish you were here with me now. What had possessed me to storm out after our stupid row? Could our romantic honeymoon be salvaged? 

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