She saw him as he kissed her on the cheek.
Warmth was like a firefly, dancing in his eyes, melting into liquid all the diamonds of her mind.
He put both his hands into her hair.
The radio crackled and grew fainter, framing the endless silence like a braid of wheat, magnetising all background interference so the air grew taut as a lens, magnifying live reactions as if they were in a scene from a lyric master’s play.
A tear escaped from the corner of one eye, smelted by the heat of his star-like gaze. Silver like mercury, burning as bright as magnesium on fire.
Her secret name was spoken as a seal and she felt as if light, not blood, was flowing through her veins.
Why it was and always would be such a deep secret, who could say?
Victorious is the bright desire from the eyes of the fair bride; it sits enthroned beside the eternal laws, for the goddess Aphrodite works her invincible will. (Sophocles, Antigone)