Prompt #32 - Do you smell that
Apotheosis
The only way he knew how to remember was wobbling though the utter darkness on the moonless nights, kneeling in front of their tree, head bent down submissive and obeisant, entreating to be forgiven - only by her.
Long ago, longer than he could conjure to his memory, her constant presence by his side had been all he needed, wanted, dreamed of. And it was still. The pulse behind his ribs, the light behind his eyes, the shadow dawning on the ground as he often slept at the roots of that tree - all of these she was and more.
‘Do you smell that?’ His voice quiet and calm, his smile a little wistful, not once had he dared look up at the sky, as if he did not deserve such privilege. ‘Fall - perishable leaves adorning the soil, the ripen fruits, vegetable ready to be harvest and the cold nights as this when the bonfires are visible from miles away.’ They had this conversation every end of term and she would underline the good points of every season to come.
‘Tomorrow the children would arrive. You may not recognize them anymore, and they have children of their own. Nephews.’ He abruptly stood, glancing up instinctively, as if he had foreseen it, and maybe he had to some extent.
Dawn was spreading onto the horizon. ‘Elaine, my dear, I will come soon.’ He said, blowing out the candle.
You can never put it back together like it was.