More than One
by Joan Leotta
The road to the vineyard at
the top of Mt Etna was comprised of turns of
every type, wide easy curves, hairpin curves,
sharp curves,-- and we took them all at what
seemed to be the car's maximum speed. My friend
laughed as she saw me grow more pale each time
the driver's hands twisted the wheel right or
left, She whispered to me, "one good turn
deserves another must be the road builder's motto
here."
I smiled weakly , trying to
ignore her and the constant chatter from the
guide. My stomach rebelled at the sheer number
and intensity. At last the car stopped. We
disembarked at the top. The others hopped ahead ,
following the guide's pointed finger to a terrace
where a lovely lunch awaited. Everyone, except
for me, that is. I gazed down at the wonderful
view and threw up.
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