They seemed to circle each other in the lamplight under the trees, close enough that a swaying arm may have circled the waist and the watchers at the coffee booth would wonder. Just as they would wonder if the trainers were too short on the tall young man with a crewcut, or if it just the sneakers showing. Their shuffling gait – almost a dance – down the road led them towards the crowd of three sitting on the grass on the edge of the road, munching and discussing lasers. They’d pause here and there, she’d clasp her small hands behind her back and look up, up and up at him. And they’d talk. Later, only images would remain: perhaps the swing of her hair from her pony tail, or the vivid sharpness of his features in the shadows, maybe the moment of laughter in circular spotlight created by one streetlight. They’d step along in the night air, before the violins started singing for either of them and never forget. This magical night with the rain hanging heavy in the air and clouds covering the dark moon, they would not run out of road. And they wouldn’t have to part ways.
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