She was hesitant, but she gave him one.
He leaned forward and she sat behind.
The late autumn light was gentle, golden and then rosy, as it set across the marshes behind his house.
He began to cry.
She could feel it through his thin ribcage.
He had always been on the skinny side, but now he seemed only made of bones. And lies.
His back seemed like the surface of a delicately designed drum; each sob reverberated.
She let him cry it out slowly.
Hiding it from her.
Finally letting go, and for too long.
She would remember that for the rest of her life.
She let him cry too long before putting her arms around him.
She loved him too. From the beginning, from the legend, from the arrogant man she could never master. And the clever adversary. Her partner on stage.
Happily ever now.
She stroked his hair. Thin and balding.
Like the reeds in the marshes outside the window.
As they held each other, they remembered everything.
And through the night, they did not let go.
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