The catacomb walls were thick and confining. Iris let out a lungful of pent up breath as sunlight filtered through a doorway. The tunnels with so many bones of the same type stacked on other bones, frightened her.
She wondered why in such an ancient country, human remains were not given the respect of a grave for more than a year or two — or at least cremation.
Iris wheezed as Don, rubbed her back. “You having an attack?”
He rolled his eyes. “You say that every time we visit tight spaces. You’re claustrophobic.”
“I’m fine. Don’t worry.” Iris was close to the exit, but the air she breathed was too stale; there wasn’t enough fresh air in the Catacombs. Her body collapsed and she couldn’t control the darkness that overcame her.
Then, Don was lifting her. Her eyes opened as he carried her into blinding daylight. A tiny ‘V’ furrowed between his gray ones.
He stroked her hair. “I got you.”
“Always?” Her voice was faint.
“Always. I know you better than you think.”
She inhaled cool air and let Don cradle her weight.