The Bear
Smoke rose languidly from the chimney, wisping its way through mist, blown apart at the slightest breeze. The cabin was glowing with the cool, efficient luminescence of LED bulbs and the warm, flickering hues of firelight. A welcome refuge from the chill of the late autumn air.
“Perfection is the enemy of good enough,” he sighed, reading the thousandth iteration of the text, keen eyes scouring the minute changes. “Perfection is undefinable and therefore does not exist. This is more than good enough. Any more dabbling and you’ll never finish it.”
Somehow we’ve arrived here, individually, the same number of seasons now separating us as we once shared. Years whip past at a quickening pace, a smaller percentage of life lived with each revolution around the sun. I would recognize you in an instant. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.
The Lion
Dim dappled light filtered through the filmy branches and waxy leaves. Moonlight mixed with streetlight sprinkled with shimmering anticipation. The lake lapped at the shore, silvery onyx under the stars. The gravity was overwhelming. I wish I had pulled away and run.
“Heartbreak is the most important experience of the human condition,” he insisted, shallow voice echoing over the phone while my spine split open and my soul rushed out, screaming into nothing. I couldn’t see anything through the tears. Should I have thanked him?
The past is untouchable, of course. But if I locked eyes with you again, I’d notice the confusion and disarray first, and the kindness and subtlety second. I didn’t know what my intuition was until it stirred at your passing. I’ll be sure to listen more intently now that we’ve moved on.
The Wolf
I’d never seen a summer solstice so long. It was light at midnight, soft pastel clouds divinely lit by an exuberant Arctic sun, hiding just beyond the mountainous horizon. The river gushed beneath us as we stood, frozen on the footbridge, basking in the warmth of sun and fresh love.
“I have loved you, I do love you, I will love you in all of your shapes, forms, moods, and manners,” he whispered into my hair. And suddenly, my identity shifted. Part of me transformed into a plural, into a “we”, into an entity that could not have existed until we met and made it so.
The booming horn of a nearby river boat jolted both of us to attention. In one fluid movement, we reached for each others’ hands, wrapping our bands neatly around the other’s wrist before our companions had fully recognized the task before them. I kissed his warm mouth and smiled.