Silent enmity stood between their beckoning partnership; unknown emotions, divergent thoughts, a mystery of ideas, the wonder of fault.

When the look of mirth returned to her eyes their journey to the branch west of town became a verbal retreat into the reverie of long, ago; testaments of yearly remembrance;  a welling up of the waters within as they moved through the clean air of the countryside over glacial moraines made round and smooth.

And they swam in the depths of their salty hearts with shared visions, realizations, intimate details that no  two people in the world could possibly exchange or be trusted with.

After ten or fifteen miles she gave a certain song to him with a beautiful phrase that she sang while driving or, cried alone with, on occasion.  

He looked out the window at the rolling fields and let the water come.

Finally, he said, “You’re right! Who else could we tell those stories to?”

A treasure of red ruby gems containing the rays of a frequency known only to them; unknown to the world, hidden from the rest.  

Songs that could only be found swimming in the depths of experiences they had shared at the same precise moment of realization an eon of time ago.

For the rest of the journey that day they did as they always had done.

They shared the light of their past worlds while pursuing the new reality. A new reality they would call their own.

The New Reality … continued

 

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