Virus in Venice

Venice. The name itself was a whisper of dreams, a city you’d yearned for your entire life. And it was everything you imagined, especially when your eyes met theirs across a sun-drenched canal. Your Italian soulmate, a connection instantaneous and profound. Days blurred into a perfect Venetian romance, gondola rides, hidden cafes, laughter echoing off ancient stones. Then, the whispers began. A new virus. Distant sirens. The world outside your romantic bubble started to fray. One moment, you were admiring the view from a scaffold, helping with some minor restoration work for a local artisan, a small part of your dream life. The next, a sudden tremor, a panicked shout, and you were falling. A sickening thud, searing pain in your hand, then darkness. You wake. How long? Hours? Days? Your head throbs, your injured hand aches, but it’s the silence that truly screams. The soft Venetian light is gone, replaced by a bruised, grey sky. The familiar sounds of the city are replaced by an eerie stillness, broken only by the distant creak of something unseen. Overturned gondolas, shattered glass, buildings scarred and empty. This isn't your dream. This is a horror movie, and you might well be the last one left.