At the very moment Dav’s heart sank and the spoon dropped from his hand, two floors below, a single tear fell from Saffron’s sky blue eye. As it traced a silvery path down her cheek, she looked across her kitchen table to the golden light of the port. There seemed so much darkness between her and the boats. So much space. The crescent moon hung softly, and the tiny lights that studded the cranes were the only stars proffered to the inky sky. It was so beautiful, this breathless night, and that was why her heart felt heavy. Beauty could make her sad sometimes. It made her think of the fisherman with his empty nets. It made her think of lonely souls on seabound ships. It made her think of Carlo, her only love. He was somewhere, reading a book or playing his songs. Perhaps cooking a meal, spicy and sweet, for his old mother. He didn’t know, oh, how deeply Saffron loved him. He didn’t know she loved him at all.
And hers was such a warm and generous love. So gentle it was shy. When Saffron lay in bed at night, she dreamt Carlo by her side. His breath, a firm body against hers. She felt those tinglings of love all over, but so bashful was she that she would not let her mind drift to see him naked. That was his retreat, not for her until it was shared. So, without a picture, she closed her eyes and imagined her lips barely touching his skin, so close she could breathe him in, smell his warmth, and feel his tiny electrical vibrations. Her sighs were as soft as the sighs of the cooling desert.
As she sat there in her kitchen chair, she loosened her long black hair and found herself mesmerised by the collision of distant lights and wistful love. The fruitless yearning for another; an impossible ocean to cross. She saw the distance between them, though of their connection she was sure. In her dreams she’d seen their hearts were tethered by delicate pearly threads, each spun by the mystics when they left the cosmos for a single earthly moment. She’d rested her head on his belly as he read to her stories from across the seas. They’d even fought over ideas and sworn never to speak of such things again. Their love was not one to be lost to such trivialities. No.
Just one answered wish was all she desired from the mystics in the stars. Tomorrow, she decided, she would offer them their favourite springtime buds in exchange for the courage to greet her own happiness.
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