Crossing

Bluebell smiled at the bridge’s fluorescent lighting. “It’s wondrous!”

“It’s new,” the old man said holding her hand. “I hope that’s okay.”

The freckled young woman nodded under her short blue hair. “That doesn’t matter. It just needs to cross running water.”

Kenneth’s eyes were tired, but happy. “So, how does—”

He fell into a fit of coughing.

“My poor brave soldier,” Bluebell said touching his cheek. “Catch your breath.”

His breathing eased. “What now?”

She took hold of her purse. “We’ll cross.”

“That’s it?”

Opening the purse, her hand dipped into pixie dust. “Remember how we met?”

“You fell tiny and dying into my foxhole,” he said. “I patched your wound.”

She nodded. “I didn’t know the horror of mortal war.”

“I didn’t know fairies were real.”

“You removed a shard of German iron. But in truly healing me, we exchanged pieces of soul.”

“Is that why I’ve dreamed of you for seventy years?”

She tossed amber motes. “I’ve dreamed of you for centuries, time is different in the realm of Titania and Oberon.”

A golden aura enveloped them, and Kenneth embraced her. “I feel light.”

“Don’t fight it, Love.”

“It’s like when you faded away, after I saved you.”

“Human bodies are but chrysalises,” she kissed. “Let it go. Be young. Unfurl your wings. Fly with me.”

“Geronimo.”