The water underneath of me is revolting. It’s more opaque than it is see-through, the green undertones setting it apart from the gray walls. It’s the type of water that slushes against your shoes as you walk, uncomfortably socking your socks. It feels like if I lift my leg, the water will peel off like a slime, taking a few seconds before falling back down. Disgusting. 

The walls are gray and made of concrete bricks, or at least that’s what it looks like. The mix of the low light from my lantern and the dust, algae, and insects covering my surroundings make it hard to see what it really is made of. The algae cover everything around me, probably sprouting from the ankle-deep water. It spreads across the walls and the ceiling, occasionally hanging down and brushing against my cheek as I make my way through the sewer, making me squirm. 

A light dripping can be heard from the distance, possibly a leak from an overhead pipe. Leaks are common in this type of city; so poor in some places there isn’t even electricity. It’s hard, but it’s what some people live with. Suddenly my small apartment back home seems like a mansion. 

The smell is potent and terrible. It smells like people used ten pounds of cheap, chlorine-flavored air fresheners to cover the smell of feces. I nearly gag every breath that I take, but the end of my journey is too near for me to become sick. I simply can’t afford it. 

She simply can’t afford it. 

She’s waiting for me, and every second I spend is a second closer to her death. 

I would run to her, but my feet are weighed down by the water. Besides, my lungs still hurt from sprinting for the first twenty minutes of my “adventure.” But for her, I’d do anything. 

I’d cross countless miles of conditions more terrible than these just to ensure that she was safe.