Step down to my personal catacombs. I drag my hand along the stony side, counting the steps. Off to the right is a branching I love to explore; days along the coast, sailing, working on boats, and seaside with my wife.
A bit further along are memories of a misspent youth, fun too.
The problem is that the torches gutter and blow out at the lower reaches. These corridors I avoid. A whisper comes, “do you dare?”