Sitting in an uncomfortable metal chair on the warm patio in Old Town, I yawn and my lower back twinges, squirting neurotransmitters to the tip of my toes. Water cascades over the fountain's five tiers, bubbling, bursting, recycling up. Nothing is lost.

As I walked into the night I noticed the moon was gone. How empty the sky looks without it!

There was silence between us where I stood rooted
by my feet, then turned on my heels and stared back. All at once a cave
in the craggy slope behind me howled... with the Grotesque also crowding
something too painful to discuss was hidden.

Even though we've been through so much dying together, my hand still feels alive in yours.