Dusk 'Til Dawn

We sat silently, our eyes wide and anticipating, watching the sun fall from our line of vision somewhere behind old Martha Pearson's picture-perfect home in the distance. The sky around us was a swirl of blazing oranges, fiery reds, and mesmerizing purples – beautiful chaos that grabbed hold of our very souls, promising to never let go.

The cool touch of nightfall chilled our glowing skin, but not our love. We lie there with our arms about each other, grinning as if we were free to do whatever we pleased whenever we pleased, as if the universe lay at our feet just begging to be shaped in whichever way we saw fit. Perfection – we'd obtained the unobtainable with our butterfly touches and whispered terms of endearment. We were at peace with all the world in that one moment.

As the vast city surrounding us succombed to the powers of the Sand Man until sunrise or even later, we lie there awake with the cold, rough shingles of the roof scraping against our arms and legs, enjoying having the world to ourselves. That was our time – to love and to cherish, to have and to hold, until dawn did us part.