by Camilla Jean Welsch
The light in her eyes was at this moment shining in a flashing pattern at once foreignly mysterious and at once peacefully familiar to him, as if rested in her a place he’d never been but recognized to be his beautiful, longed-for home – something like red tiles in the kitchen and white flowers on the countertop with the immensely close presence of the Mediterranean on a warm summer evening. He longed for her shoulder, on which he saw he could rest his busy head, close his eyes, and let go of the salty tears into the fabric of her cotton blouse, feeling the pulse of his temples beating warmly against her soft neck, noticing it slowing to match the assuredness of her simple heart. The sun was setting behind her now, peeking only over a far-away brick rooftop, and he knew he must kiss her before it went completely out. There were only three seconds left on the clock….But they would have eternity.