Towards White

by Zena Shapter

  “It’s beautiful.” More beautiful than I’d hoped, and everything I dreamt it could be. “I feel like I’m as close to heaven as anyone alive.” And I feel a haze that’s kept me prisoner for years dissolve into clarity.

  What if I do want children, one day?

  Ari and I lie down together and, as our breathing slows into a peaceful rhythm of awe, it feels like we’ve known each other all our lives. It’s the most romantic feeling I’ve ever felt and I half-suspect the light in Iceland might be playing a trick on me when I see another larger white ball shoot across the sky from Höfkállur into the auroras.

  “Did you see that!?” Ari asks, not needing an answer.

  We both know it’s not the shooting star other aurora-seekers on the hillside will assume it to be: it’s two lost souls finally entering heaven together.

  Anything is possible.

  My eyes dry from staring, I blink to refresh them, squeezing them tight.

  A tear trickles down the side of my cheek.

  This time, I don’t stop it.