Walking Fast

He walked behind her, brooding, hands in jacket pockets.
She was walking fast, smiling, hands gesturing wildly.
He leaned against the fence, face next to hers.
She leaned against the fence, eyes scanning his.
They both saw blue.

He climbed the ladder to the loft.
She leaned against it's wall, yellow light bouncing.
They shot plastic berries and cherry tomatoes into the chili below.

He perched on the edge of the couch.
She lay on the floor.
He scooted off, took a pillow and lay down paraellel to her.
She moved her pillow closer, their faces were inches apart.
They just talked, speaking about everything.

He said, come here.

A voice from downstairs: a parent, saying, time to go, it was a goodbye free of kisses.