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Her scent. It enthralls. It causes the pulse to quicken and the world to be colored in the veil of her beauty. Slowly, timidly he takes her hand, so small and soft in his. Their warmth radiates into one another. Life surges with the simple pure touch; emotion and thought communicated through the slightest twitch of a finger. There they stand, open to one another, joined only by the grasp of a hand.

The sun illuminates her, radiance flows out brightening his face. He smiles, a true and rare smile. Not forced, but unbidden and uncontrollable. He takes her in his arms and with the sun beaming it’s blessings they embrace to the abandon of the world. Time itself stops to admire the two before passing on.

Time did pass on. Time never stopped for the man. The sun never radiated his life and now hides itself from him. The warmth that might have been an embrace was blown away by a biting gust. Yet his hand still held. It held strong and firm but was not right. There was no other. The man’s hand grasped it’s counterpart. So the man stood in the world, lost and alone.

He fights the dark, he shoulders the cold. He looks but doesn’t find her. The world moves but he does not. There he stands with only his own hand to hold.