EIGHTY-TWO | SUNRISE

We lay back on the grass together, his arm slipping beneath my head and keeping me close. Idly, as I felt the gushing wave of life return to me, I traced the veins in his wrist, using the barest touch to follow them along his forearm and into the crook of his elbow, making up the path where they dipped from view.

Then I traced the stars with that same pointed fingertip, watching as clouds as blue as his veins puffed across the sunrise, startlingly different to the hues of red and gold simmering atop the sea, but fitting all the same. They blurred together seamlessly, night and day, dark and sun.

“Do you remember what I told you about Esther?” He asked quietly, his words a whispering breeze against the dawn.

I did, now; now that he’d returned my memory to me. “Yes. The witch – right?”

“That’s her.” He mused over his thoughts for a moment before con