You thrust a final time, your ragged cry of release filling the air and startling a pair of birds overhead. As they wing away you clutch Mondy to you, whispering, “Thank you,” and kissing him passionately as the scarlet leaves overhead drift down onto his golden hair.
These last couple of years have been hell. The two of you had your love put to the test more than ever before. It’s been utterly draining--physically, emotionally, financially--but as you look into Mondy’s eyes you know it was all worthwhile, and you know he feels the same. Such a warm feeling of peace and joy suffuses you, and you can’t help but kiss him again.
Days drift by, careless and lazy.
The two of you spend the evenings fishing, and during the day you glean whatever you can find from the overgrown fields. Mondy is still in recovery from his long illness and a bit weak, so the bulk of the work falls on you. Not that you mind. The days are quiet and peaceful, and it’s a joy just to be alive as you greet each sunrise, your love at your side.
It’s really just the two of you out here now; there were only a handful left in the village after the sickness came, and since then they’ve all packed up and left. No future out here. You heard those words often enough, even in your younger days, and there was even a time you believed it.
And of course, there were uglier words.
