by Dane Bagley
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Aiden kissed Mirinda as neither of them had kissed before. Neither of them wanted to let go. For Mirinda, the weeping had long been over. Aiden never saw her weep. In her kisses she communicated everything. Words are such low resolution, so choppy and imprecise. In his arms, in his eyes, in his touch, and in his kiss, she shared everything with him, her entire soul. Aiden took everything in, but could not let everything out. Part of him wanted to, but he knew that he was, as yet, incomplete. When they met again, perhaps he would be complete and then he would share his entire soul with her. Mirinda understood. She longed for their reunion. Aiden held her for a moment longer on the porch and then watched her as she disappeared inside the door. She didn’t look back. He was glad. Aiden was ready to leave. It wasn’t yet time. This quest he couldn’t take on his own. He needed to prepare his troops. There was more uncertainty than he liked. There would be risk, and loss. He wouldn’t blame himself for the loss; not if he prepared his men and himself as best he could. Aiden wasn’t complete, but he longed to be.