On vacation, everything seemed exotic--the narrow cobblestone streets, the tall windows with wooden shutters, the faded yellow and red and blue walls, centuries old. And the fountain, the fountain in the town square. By moonlight. They had wine with dinner, an aperitif, a digestif, and another bottle of wine. By the time they left, the cafe was closed. The windows were shuttered. The streets silent. The only thing moving was the fountain. Drawn to it, they swayed over. They stared at it. They dared each other.
It is good to be young, and wild. At least once.
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