“I turned to him and he reached for my hand. It would have been easier to walk away. But the wind still blew around us and the house still stood.”

“When a wisp of fog blew by her she laughed and reached out her hands to it. When the wind blew she turned to it and opened her bodice, letting it caress and kiss her breasts, for she never knew when it might be him, and still she wanted nothing more than to please him utterly.”

“I spun away from him. I didn’t need his pity.I started walking in the opposite direction of the house. I didn’t know where I was going, I just wanted to get away from him.He called out, “I still love you.”I froze. And then slowly, I turned around to look at him. “Don’t say that”

“We walked into the arena together with him reaching out his arm and wrapping it around my waist. He pulled me into him, smelling the aroma around him. The scent was familiar like I was with him before. Although I was positive that I’d never seen this man, something still ached at me. Was it a longing of a piece of my past starting to take effect?”

“I stood there, listening. The wind blew snow from the branches. Snow blew out of the woods in eddies and sweeping gusts. I raised my collar, put my gloves back on. When the air was still again, I walked among the stones, trying to read the names and dates, adjusting the flags to make them swing free. Then I stood and listened. The power of the dead is that we think they see us all the time. The dead have a presence. Is there a level of energy composed solely of the dead? They are also in the ground, of course, asleep and crumbling. Perhaps we are what they dream. May the days be aimless. Let the seasons drift. Do not advance the action according to a plan.”

“It doesn't change that I still want him, I still want to be with him, I still feel like the fucking air has been sucked out of the room when he walks in and I still think about him all the time.”