The tale and the truth

They walk by the water holding hands. Everything being perfect. They have the sun, they have a little rain, just the way they like it.

Dragging their feet through the damp grass, talking soft and laughing aloud. Every passing moment lifts them of their feet and glides them to a place, where they see nothing but the grass, the sun and the little rain.

She says to him "we are pretty lucky, aren't we?". He knows he is.

Wait for the night. From the pockets he removes roasted coffee beans and a tea bag. They walk a little more looking for some rocks to strike a fire. Get a little water boiling. Divides it into the two cups. Their skin touching the damp grass and each others. They have a mid-night coffee.

A common thought resonates among them. Wondering if the next day would bring the same and day after that. Neither knowing how to ask that, as they have already looked into the tale and the truth.

As she finishes her coffee and he sips his tea, he thinks to himself "for how long is this?" and finally says out loud "Maybe if we don't count the seconds, it already is forever".

Angel

He climbs onto her terrace and waits with the stars and the moon for her to walk up those stairs. The sharp breeze poking him every few minutes. Finally, she climbs up those stairs with warm soup and a cut of chocolate cake.

Forgetting the sharp breeze, looking at the cake, his eyes open up. In that moment every cell in his body was excited, because no matter how many times he imagined how it would be, when she walk up those stairs, there was no cake. She was an angel to him. In this world of equilibrium and balance there are a few beings that get to bend the rules in any way they wish. She was his angel.

They pitched a tent out of sheets and clips. They took in the chill of the night, folded their legs, hunched their backs, exchanged a warm look and bit into their cake.