Home > prose and poetry > two against the world.

two against the world.

Yeah, perhaps a bit over-romantic, but can you blame me these days?


It was always just me and her. Two friends brought together by fate, by luck, by some sort of magical connection. We didn’t know exactly, and we didn’t care. All we knew is that it felt right, and that was all that mattered to us.

The sun was setting on a wonderful day, and, to the west, beyond the mountains, the darkening sky was lit up with glorious shades of orange, the final light of the sun burning brightly as it disappeared into the night. It was as if the sun was setting for the last time, and wished to provide Earth’s denizens with a suitably magical sight to remember it by.

We sat together on a hill near the outskirts of town, looking out over the concrete sprawl we called home, with its shady back-alleys and decaying masonry. Street lights flickered into life, bathing the blue-tinted streets in their peculiar shade of orange. In homes and shops all across town, lights were also being turned on, a sign, if any more signs were needed, of the coming of night.

We knew that both our parents would be wondering where we were, and that we would certainly have a bit of explaining to do, but we didn’t care. Not at all.

They, and the whole world, felt as distant from the both of us as the slowly-setting sun was.

Neither of us said anything. We just sat there, in silence. We didn’t want to say anything and we didn’t need to. Words would only serve to distract from the magic of the moment at hand.

She looked so beautiful in the dying light of the day, with those facial features of hers I loved so much highlighted perfectly by the setting sun. I had my camera besides me, but I didn’t bother: I knew that no camera on Earth could have captured how she looked.

It would have been a disservice to her, and to Mother Nature, who had provided such beautiful light to us.

Suddenly, the silence was pierced by the emergence of large flocks of birds from the treetops that surrounded us. It was time for them to leave to hunt for their evening meals, and for a moment, we were enveloped with the sound of beating wings and harsh, grating cries. The air, previously still and quiet, was now a maelstrom of activity, and the dying light lent an almost ominous quality to proceedings.

But that didn’t bother us either.

We didn’t care.

Because we were together.

We looked at each other, and our eyes met. If pictures speak a thousand words, the look in her eyes must have spoken a million words all at once. I reached for her hand, and she reached out for mine.

I shuddered at her touch. And she smiled in that inimitable way of hers, a smile that had always meant the world to me.

And, holding hands, we turned our gaze back to the distant mountains as the sun’s light finally disappeared behind them.

Categories: prose and poetry
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