The only way to love someone is to realize that someday they might be gone from you.



There’s a flash of a match in the dark, before it gives way to the softer glow of candlelight. And somewhere, as she drifts between the realms of consciousness, she hears the soft sigh of her name. It’s low enough to ignore but heated enough to startle her into wakefulness.

Because oh, she knows that voice.

The sound of her name in his throat is rooted as deeply within her as the birthmark along her right shoulder, as the scent of midday rain after a tired morning — old and warm. Familiar and comfortable in the wake of dawn’s light.