Ella continued lightly up the worn flagstone steps, her breath shallow and quick. She had lost him, Alfonso, many a minute before. She smiled to herself through her panting breaths as she heaved her yellow skirt higher, moved faster in her platform shoes. “There you are, Bella Mia!” She heard his sweet, crooning voice from far below her. No! She increased her speed, emerged onto one of the few solid Venetian streets.

She hurried across the damp stones, waved to a passing gondalier, Vincenzo! She knew him from her… nights at work. “Per Favore! Please! Stop!” He did, and she rushed into the boat. “Oh, Vincenzo, thank you so much.” She clambered into the tiny cabin at the front of the gondola. She heard Alfonso’s voice crying out from the bridge.

“My love, my muse, don’t desert me!

She pulled her yellow whore’s veil over her face and smiled.