The gondola halted. I trembled.
“We’ve bought tickets.” His nudge stiffened me. “Get on.” My chin turned left; shoulders followed.
A hand grasped mine. “What’s your name?” she asked. I told her. “Mine too! Hold my hand and watch me.” So I reached the beautiful mountaintop, holding hands and breathing.
Twelve vacations later, we stepped toward the mouth of the cavern. A girl stiffened as her father nudged her. “We’ve bought tickets,” he hissed.
I took her hand. “What’s your name?” She told me. “Mine too,” I lied. “Hold my hand and watch me.” So we descended into beautiful darkness.