SHIP-SHAPE JURY MAST

“What’d you looking at?” He sweetly kisses her swan-like neck as it gives her inviting goosebumps. Light within the lamp finds the gloss in her eyes. He joins in on the gaze. “You know, every summer since I was a little girl my dad would bring out a shrine for Matralia and everytime I saw it, it reminded me of her.” Their sights stood still on the statue where the water hits it’s banks.

“Do you think the war will stop?”

“The old man told me not too long ago, ‘Junior, war is a talent. A measurement. It when you outweigh the feather. The point is, knowing when to cash out, or in.’ He isn’t that far from right though. I mean look at us, here we are trying to act as if we don’t know what’s going on out there. A hundred years won’t change us. Not one bit.”

She caresses her cheek against his with a deep nose breath. “I don’t think we’re supposed to know, and if we did, I bet it’d be like seeing the sun for the first time.”

THE END