Alan laughed through his cigar released the bow string the arrow shot into the clouds and vanished.
Without surprise he returned to the fire letting the bow dangle from his finger.
The sound of water boiling reminded him of a morning in Berlin the kitchen bread, cheese, jam by the window Judith making coffee on the hob patterns of blue wool about her waist.
Somehow coffee had always tasted like burnt almonds since though Miho sent him enough green tea from Japan to last several lifetimes.
Green tea in a green forest. Alan shut his eyes, let the breeze touch his cheeks and smiled.
“I’ve a question.” “Yes?” “Will you marry me? “No.” “Why not?” “You’re too young. And I’m God.”