by Joe Stanley

His voice was soothing and provoking at the same time. It was tinged by the thrill it could barely hide. He was on the way immediately, leaving her to count the last few moments of an old life.

She stood by the doors, gazing up, her heart lost among the stars. She thought of his promise. Though she knew it was impossible, it was still an irresistibly sweet dream. She savored it until it was broken by headlights blazing through the night. The intimidating dark machine growled like some abyssal beast, but it was nothing to the menacing hunger of his eyes.

She drifted toward him, as though sleepwalking, unable to run away or scream. She felt his scratching kiss setting fire to her cheek and wrapping her in its narcotic bliss. He lead her to the door and held it for her like a gentleman. She let herself slip back into the warm and wonderful dream.

“Would you like to go to my place?”
“There is somewhere I’d like to go.”
“Name it, my darling.”
“I’d like to go for a walk on the beach. …If you don’t mind.”
“No, not at all. I’d enjoy that very much.”

They rolled along quiet, empty streets, saying little. Melancholy melodies crooned softly from the radio, their ghostly voices rising from the past to haunt the moonlit world. The silvery glow rained down in countless reflections in an ocean of darkness.

She slid across the seat and he took her in his arms. For herself, she took a kiss. Safe and cradled, she dared imagine what could never be. But in that moment she found its beauty, its awing simplicity. And she imagined what it was to be in love. She fixed her being on that feeling until it burned itself into her heart.

Even he was stunned, still and silent as she slide away and opened the door. In a daze, she felt the sand beneath her feet, the cool breeze on her skin. She knew the time had come, the end was here. She took his hand and gazed up into his magic eyes.

Death was the sweetness in the summer air.

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