She walked behind him, placing her hands on his cheeks. “From the tragedy, from the loss, our bond grew. We were meant to escape. I have often wondered. Was it curiosity? Was it fate? It matters not. Never would I have awakened were it not for you. What we have found, others fail to find in more likely places. You are right. Few will understand the tragedy. Fewer will understand us. We will be subject to skepticism. I do not care. For you I will be ever grateful. Someday we shall return with our children,” she smiled.
“Laureen, you know who you are. You will only become more beautiful. Me, on the other hand, I might change so that you will desire me less. You might tire of me?”
Her hands moved to the black scarf. Playfully she pulled the ends tighter around his neck. “So, already you plan an escape! You had better realize there is no escaping me. And, as we grow older, I will be lighter afoot than you. Perhaps from your shadow, I will emerge to lead the way.”
“Ha! From my shadow? That’ll be the day. I am putty in your hands.”
“I see. We have been in unusual forms. But never have you been putty… in my hands.” She loosened the scarf bending to kiss him. “Or, do you forget so soon?”
The Last Parade