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“Prepare for the best,” I whisper as I look for him.

I see my lover at our spot in the field beyond good and evil off the road none remember.

He slouches over his beat up Gibson with one broken string. Who needs G chords, anyway?

Engrossed in his strumming, he doesn’t see me approach.

“Boo!” I exclaim.

He smiles and looks up at me, then further up pointing.

The sky writing reads, “She walks in beauty.”

It is the first moment I ever feel unconditional love. I glory in the weight of it.

We never go to the field again.