2 Quotes by Kristen Caven

Listen,” whispers Dario. “How still it is.” They stand under a darkened archway, the only sound a whispered squeak where docked gondolas rub against each other. Negative ions from the lapping water release serotonin, and the brains of these two flood with the nourishment of each other’s breath, each other’s chi.

Turning her body slightly to the left, he gently bends her knee, breaking eye contact to lick her slowly, from Venice to Trieste—then down the Croatian Coast, the length of Serenissima.