It was blasphemous and immoral; they submitted to the thrumming rhythm of the ethereal emotions that curled beneath their rhapsodic boughs; it filled the cosmos between them with embryonic passion—the steps they took were almost predestined, as if they had been there before; the breaths they took were almost too heavy to be healthy; the chances they took were reckless to the brink of all that was and will be tomorrow.
She pressed her lips softly against the warm, yielding lobe of his ear and whispered.
“How can flowers bloom as if they will never wilt? Do they know nothing of futility?”
He smiled.
“They know nothing of futility, those lucky few. We could only dream to be so blind….”
Danny Judge is an emerging writer who is currently at work on his debut novel. A former Marine, he lives in Iowa with his wife and young son.
