It had been love on first sight when we had met. Back then the room was flooded with the urgency of youth; tonight it was the deep, mature love that wanted to reaffirm itself.The knock on the old wooden door came just as we were ready to sit down for dinner. I opened the door and was greeted by the sight of a thirtyish lady in a black sheath. She was shivering in the cool night air of an early fall."By all means, come in out of the cold," I invited her. She did not enter at once. Her eyes were taking in the room, wondering if it was safe. When she spotted a female sitting at the dinner table, she stepped forward and I could close the door. "I am so sorry to trouble you at dinner time, but I am afraid I ran out of gas about a quarter mile down the road and I wonder if I could use your phone. My cell phone seems to be out of range." she explained. "Did you walk all the way here on that gravel road in those heels?" I interrupted. "Your feet must be killing you," my wife chimed in. "Why. But this time was different. He was different. Tristan was different. Tristan was the catalyst of all her happiness. She had found the other half of her wholeness. The one who, added to herself, made one complete being. The symbiosis was apparent. She needed him. The incense burned down to a nub as the last fresh gasp of juniper diffused into the room. Tristan took the gun out of his mouth and set it on the nightstand. He had listened to those voices before and they always got him in trouble. He lay back staring at the ceiling. He waited. He waited for her to run through the bedroom door, just as she had done so many times before. He wound his thumbs over each other, slowly at first, then the pace began to quicken. He twiddled his thumbs end over end again and again with an unknowable vigor. Thoughts began to run through his head. Memories. Memories of everything. The first images were a little fuzzy. White. All was white. He looked around and saw his bother and sisters sliding down.
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