By Derek Schnauss
She rode to him on a dragonfly with wings of stained glass. The sky blossomed visceral as she flew, purple and red, alive with the lights of the distant heavens. When she reached him, when her dragonfly lit silent on the edge of the iridescent toadstool he’d made his home, he raised his arms in greeting, met her halfway across the soft and brilliant slope. Instantly, she was in his arms, breathing, tears running down her cheeks, eager and unchecked. The silence passed wordless, shivered on as the dragonfly took to the wind again, left the two together, caught in missed embrace.
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My wife and I are a package deal.
Labels: Derek Schnauss