She smiled, and I knew my heart would never be my own again.
* * *
The night was bitterly cold,snow up to my knees.But still I kept walking.Lula was waiting for me, said she’d have a cup of coffee ready, even if I got to the bakery after closing hours.
By the time I got there, it was nearing midnight.
I almost turned away.
But I knocked with frozen fingers.
Lula opened the door, a heavy shawl over her shoulders, and ushered me in.
She brewed us both a cup of coffee, but her smile warmed me more than the welcome heat from the Franklin stove.
* * *
I kissed her,a trembling brush of lips asking questions I could not speak.
* * *
She kissed me back.
* * *
We danced.She laughed at my clumsiness, my feet in the wrong places, on the wrong beat, as the band sawed out a summer tune.
* * *
They would beour wedding vows, and we’d say them soon, so soon, beneath the big tree, just her and I and the pastor.
I repeated mine every night like a ritual as I waited to marry the woman I loved.
* * *
I lay dying,watching the monster feed on her.
Our gazes had locked and then…
…then everything had gone black.It was a good blackness.Peaceful, warm.
Until I’d woken into the shattering of her scream.
She: bent over my unbreathing, unresponsive body.
Me: standing above myself—poor dead bastard—unable to close the deal, finish the story.
There was no white light guiding me up, no red flames dragging me down.I wouldn’t have wanted them anyway.All I wanted was her.
* * *
The monster evaporatedand time shattered, hammering me, us, reality, into a million pieces that could never be glued back together.
Still, I reached for her, for any shred of her I could hold, protect, love…and she reached for me…
* * *
“The answer,”a low, droll voice I’d heard somewhere, somewhen before said, “is still no, Brogan Gauge.I am, as I have said before, rather occupied with my vacation.You may remind the moon rabbit of such.”
