Before the Wedding
I had the impression that we were holding each other up; if either of us let go or looked away, we would both fall down. Oddly, the feeling was mildly reassuring. Whatever we were in for, at least there were two of us.
More than 20 years later
“It’s only…the first time…I didn’t think it would be forever. I meant to go, then.”
He snorted faintly, the sweat gleaming lightly in the small hollow in the center of his chest.
“And ye did go, and came again,” he said. “You’re here; there’s no more that matters, than that.”
“What did you think, the first time we lay together?” I asked. The dark blue eyes opened slowly, and rested on me.