It was the usual meeting place, though we both knew it’s time was coming to an end. The excuses to visit there were wearing thin on us and the others around us. Still, it was our place, and always would be.

We journeyed from opposite sides of the still water, wandered the twisting, dusty path ‘till we reached the shady place that was always ours. Open enough to feel the wind gust across the water, secluded so that it was just us, our space, our place.

I waited. The time had long passed and I knew something was wrong, I could feel it. The clouds grew thick and heavy overhead, as did my heart.

The raindrops that fell started gently, tickling the leaves above me but only occasionally reaching me. I knew that would not last. And as the clouds gave up their weight in earnest, it was then she approached, tears and rain streaming down her face. She whispered only two words as her hand touched mine. “He knows.”

As we embraced, the cold of the rain on our clothes and bodies was soon erased by the heat we shared, our skin tingling with electricity as we held each other for the last time. “He’s here waiting for you, isn’t he?” and her reply was a single nod.

As we kissed for the last time, the salt of the tears and the rain mingled on our lips. No words of goodbye were needed, the soft warm kisses and the strength of the embrace told us everything we needed to know.

As she walked away, throughly drenched inside and out, the rain fell from the sky, the drops dribbled down from my sodden clothes, and the tears streamed from my face.

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