Planes

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They sent correspondence, 
for months conversed, through screens, and paper torn from anxious envelopes.
They intrigued, the questions of origins endless. 
Her exuberance exultant in him, his mystery unraveling in her.
The wells of them were deep but the water residing was tainted in him, some how she exulted in the fresh foreign taste.
She sat upon the head of stone, basking in the serenity of the living, caressing, silence of the heavy bone yard.
He stood before her as her watch struck midnight audibly. His tenuous, stark pallor matching the garden stones, and her shock, creeping icily up her legs, and squeezing it’s fingers deep into her belly. 
He smirked, indulgently.
She nervously, excitedly, smiled, barely. 
“How’d you find me? How did you get here?”
His smile blossoming with hers, “there’s so much that I would say.”
They talked til morning, as the golden rays pierced the cemetery fog, the birds cooing cut straight through the magical silence to welcome reality back in song. Amidst the sweet October throng, he began to fade. His feet and hands began to drift with the lingering vapors, “don’t go!” she cried, but he just smiled, “I’ll be back tonight with wine.”
At that she laughed a little and said goodbye, all day checking for the descent of darkness and for the moon to rise.

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