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Sunshine and Hazy Days by Aleilisth
I never thought to see myself like this. Years into the future from that fateful day when we fell to Earth; still alive, more than whole. The buzz of the crickets used to keep me awake at night (I never understood how you could tune out that noise yet wake up to the sound of the safety catch being taken off a gun). Now, with the buzzards circling overhead and the valley below wavering in the languid heat of the summer, the noise of the crickets merely adds to the heavy richness of the air. I can sense you beside me; it's too hot to touch, but I don't need your skin pressed against mine to know that you're near. I smile, recalling the last week: a four-mile walk in the middle of the day was perhaps not your wisest suggestion, but the look of delight on your face when I gave you your glace aux framboises and a bottle of soda more than made up for the discomfort. The girls in the marketplace fussed over your hair and yet could not even meet my eye when I ordered us a café crème apiece. You have never quite learned to erect that barrier between people; but I suppose conversely I have never been able to knock my own barrier down. There are no walls between us, at least, and that's what matters. I know that you love it here: where the heat of the day wraps us in a rich blanket and puts a stop to our abortive attempts at labour; where the acres of sunflowers in the early evening sun turn the hills to gold; where the strings of lights illuminate the couples eating in the town square and kiss the ancient stonework of the surrounding arcades. It is such a contrast to those cold, lonely nights on your impoverished colony, and I cannot begrudge you this holiday any more than you begrudge my own quirks and desires. Yes, we are content. Across the garden and in the field beyond, two deer are tentatively making their way through the tall sunflowers. I turn to see if you have noticed them too, but your head is tilted back and your mouth is slightly open, the rise and fall of your chest confirming your slumber. I can't help but smile; you swore blind that you weren't tired an hour ago, but any physical exertion in this heat is bound to be tiring. I will wake you in a little while before your fair skin starts to burn. For now though, the deer in the field can go as they please. I just want to watch your hair brush your forehead in the breathless wind; your golden eyelashes dust the curve of your cheek; your hips shift slightly as you seek comfort in the garden chair. I need no sunshine and hazy days to make me smile. All I need is you.
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