"Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today . . ."
. . .
"We've known each other for a long time, haven't we?""It's been a week."
"I believe it has been eight days--but never mind. It seems so much longer. As if we had known one another always. . . . Whatever our souls are made of, they seem to be of the same."
"Where did you read that?"
"Wuthering Heights. Or part of it. But that--never mind that. Since we met at the train station that day--"
"And you kissed me."
"If you want me to apologize for that--""Oddly, I do not."
"It was impetuous, I admit--"
"Why did you do it?"
"Will you let me speak without interruption? Thank you. Yes, I kissed you. When I saw your profile as you read the timetable, when you turned to me and I heard your voice as you asked for directions . . . something came over me. Maybe it was the light on your hair--but no, it was not that, or not only that. It was as if I was seeing an angel . . . I know it sounds foolish . . . but I had two choices: I could fall down and kiss your feet, or stand up and kiss you on the mouth. I chose to rise and touch the angel's lips."
"And where did you read that?"
"On my heart. Listen . . . I have--you see--there is--I would like--"
"Are you trying to ask me something?"
"Yes, I-- Will you--that is-- How would you like it-- Would you--agree to joining me in courtship?"
. . .
. . .
"Seven months to the day, is it not?"
"It feels more like years."
"Doesn't it . . ."
"Is anything wrong? Are you feeling all right?"
"Perfectly . . . Why?"
"All day you've been very distant."
"I'm sorry. I have had something on my mind . . . It has, however, been a very good day, hasn't it?"
"Of course it has."
"I thought so, but I couldn't quite remember. I haven't been paying attention-- No, no, don't hit me! I jest!"
"What's on your mind, then?"
"I have been thinking about us: about these seven months, and how wonderful they have been; about how happy our walks, such as this, make me feel."
"I love it too. There is something--I don't know--oh, magical about walking together like this."
"Through day and gathering dusk, into the shadows beneath the starlight . . ."
"You're such a poet."
"Only when I'm with you. When I walk with you, I feel all the wisdom of the stars. I enjoy walking with you--very much. . . . "
"So do I."
"I love you."
"I know it. I love you too--you know that?"
"Of course. I--I want to tell you--well-- That is--if you would--you see-- Listen here--I-- There's something important--"
"I love it when you stutter. You don't do it often. Only when you're nervous . . . You have another question to ask me, don't you?"
. . .
. . .
"It will be seventy years tomorrow . . . if I make it that far, my love. The doctors don't think I will. But I--I have never trusted doctors. Not since--but never mind . . .
"One more morning--just until the dawn. I can make it that far. To see that dawn one more time . . . One more day. Then I will join you.
"I hope you're listening to me. Otherwise I'm just a foolish, senile old man muttering to myself . . . But no--I'm not senile.
"Ah! that's it now! The sunrise. I hope you can see it. It's beautiful . . . almost as beautiful as it was all those years ago. . . . I remember it perfectly. One more glimpse of the sun. One more glimpse--of the same sun we saw that morning. Then--then . . ."
. . .
"I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride."
Light, lovely and rosy, was being restored once more to the world as the sun climb into view across the darkened sea. It was as if the universe was being reborn as their lips met, and their new lives together dawned.
Sincerely, Nuile: Lunatic Wordsmith