Plurk paste

Whether a tease in words or a touch of her hand, the dryness of his humor or the way his breath hitched when her teeth grazed his ear, the hormones of her age or the sentimentality bred into the human race as a means of ensured propagation over the millennium, Collette couldn't have said. If she had wanted to know what love was, it was all of this, and nothing like it; separate and divided and wonderful even as it hurt deep inside the center of her heart. It was hers alone, and so was he, for a while -- and when he isn't, and on what day might come where it would be just a memory borne by a world never meant to be their home, their shared laughter will be the only ghostly whisper carried on by the insensate winds of Time.