This time they chose Rome. It was empty. No slow-crawling traffic inching through the congested streets, no beeping of horns and fume-filled air, just a pleasant warm day, them, and silence. It was the spookiest thing Dale thought he had ever experienced. They knew the place well, having visited a number of times over the years, often coming just for long weekends as it was only a three hour flight from England. They wandered the streets for the day, one part of Dale relishing the chance to experience the ancient architecture unhindered by tourists and people offering their services as guides, or hawkers trying to get them to buy trinkets that would be put in a cupboard and never seen again. It was like visiting for the first time. As they held hands and walked the ancient streets, marveling at the architecture, he felt like he had never truly seen it before — it was beautiful. Such accomplishments, such pride and skill, it made him proud to be a part of the human race. And that was exactly what made it all so wrong: without people, without the hustle and bustle, the noise and inconvenience, it all just felt so pointless.
