Sushma didn't answer but dreamily looked at the stars that seemed perennially stitched to the web of the sky. She believed stars would soothe her skin with their cold stare as years would start to wither it with their history.
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So they stood in silence within the garage's slanted shadow—she with stolen flowers in her hands, he with pupils that were vertical slits—until a sound broke the spell.
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She leaned over the railing. Up close the river was green and murky like water in a vase of dead cut flowers. Far below... things she knew, but didn't want to see. Not yet...
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