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Take my hand as it comes. Only look at me.
We don’t need to see it coming. We don’t need to see how it ends. Only look at me.
That night in Reykjavik, as we sat on the rocks, holding back tears at the beauty of that sky, you turned to me, and you told me then that you wished it could be only us.
Now, at the end, it will be. Just once. For a minute, for a moment, for a breath. The only thing left will be us.
Take my hand as it comes.
Only look at me.
Derek Alan Jones spends most of his time working in a warehouse in Kansas and the rest of it writing speculative fiction. His work has appeared in Utopia Science Fiction, Gamut, the Saturday Evening Post, and Spooky Magazine, among others. Find it all at DerekAlanJones.com.
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