The next morning, we left Vernazza for Venice. Walking away, I felt as helpless as I did euphoric; I couldn’t limp to the train station fast enough. While Emily stopped to take things in for one last time, I kept on limping and didn’t look back.
Get me the hell out of here, I thought.
Don’t let the door hit you in the ass on the way out, Cinque Terre retorted.
We had a love-hate relationship, Cinque Terre and I. As breathtaking as it was, I’m not sure I’ll ever muster up the courage to go back. One thing’s for certain, I’ll never look at Hershey’s miniatures the same way again.
