At the conclusion of nine months of silent communion
interrupted on occasion by one-sided conversations
or teary and rather too frank confidences, and
after some very loud mutual screaming, the two
were at last introduced. A shadow like that
of vast wings passed across them and he
slept, the small bud of his face all unclenched. Later,
still drowsing, he was certain he had overheard her
claim that while nursing he never stopped staring
right into her eyes, which was fair enough; however,
when she added she felt like he was judging her,
right away he sensed things getting out of hand. Awake
that night he took long hours to ponder the matter,
coming at last to consider her declaration jejune, clearly
unsubstantiated, not to mention tinged with paranoia,
not a trait, incidentally, you are happy to see in
the person with whom you’ll be spending the next couple
“I am doing no such thing,” he concluded. In addition,
while she and all the others were perfectly free to
fall into line with mores and laws handed down
by the sheep who exist, it was his adamant intention
to go on waiting for word from his god who did not.
“And,” he muttered irritably, “I want a harmonica.”