[Sodium_noir] Whispers of the Past

[Bill]

John, Abby
Beneath Mike's Place

“I remember Da singin’ me to sleep, warm and safe in his arms. Then his funeral in the cold rain, the drops beadin’ on the tightly folded colors of the flag they gave me. Surrounded by black clad mourners like a Murder of Crows. All with the Pipes wailing. I remember my paw prints in the wet snow, the blood dyein’ them pink as I ran... that first night on the road, cold and alone, hunted…” Her voice trailed off, these memories were painful to bear, and she tried imagining them multiplied over so many lives.  She moves close enough to feel the warmth of him through the thin, ancient silk. She places her hand, slender and pale, over his heart, feeling it beating strongly against her palm.
“How d’you keep that from breakin?” Her voice is soft, barely audible. 

John placed his hand over Abby's, cocked his head slightly to the side, and considered the question.  "I've had a long time to realize that all things come to an end.  Lives, ages, empires, none of it is permanent.  Once you accept that, and it wasn't easy, you learn to enjoy what's present while it's here."

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