Fingers entwined, they walked the steep, curving road, the town like a magic carpet at their feet; beyond it, a blue-diamond sea unfurled to the sky’s edge. Twenty years ago, and he could not imagine where that time had gone. Twenty years, and his love had only grown richer, more nuanced, layer upon layer—strata of joy, grief, frustration, contentment—accumulating beneath their feet, lifting them, ever-so-gradually toward this moment. He knew the hand in his, so strong and loyal and firm, as if he had painted it, in minute detail, every day of his life. Each line on that face, engraved by harsh darkness and fierce light, by time itself, was a road that, no matter where he turned, led him home again. Sure-footed, they descended, neither hurrying nor lingering, in perfect step, toward tomorrow and the next day, toward the magic-carpet town and the blue-diamond sea where, nearly two decades ago, they had watched the sun rise in each others’ eyes, and had known.
(c) 2019, by Hannah Six
Image: Mantas Hesthaven, Pexels