As the fire in the clouds
turned to ash
Tom breathed his last gasp.
Julia looked up from
the page of the story
she was reading
as his eyelashes
made their last flicker
and then he was gone.
His hand was still warm.
She remembered his
gentle grasp when
they'd sat side by side
on a bench with a view
of the sunrise
the first morning
after the war.
and how the sun
painted his face
with rose. The question
he asked with his eyes,
as he slid
that warm hand
under her skirt
up her thighs.
and how she
had replied
with her own,
guiding his hand
to the welcoming place
that would be his home
for the next forty years.
She brushed off a tear,
and reached for her phone.
The magazine slipped off her lap
and hit the floor with a splat
as she stabbed the numbers
to summon a cab.
Good bye Tom, see ya around.
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