Krysta Walker
They held hands, fingers overlapping, pulling strength
from each other. They looked over the rocks, past their feet; saw the rushing
water and debris like an evil tempest, a quick escape.
She looked at him, he
looked at her. Her hand was lifted and brought to his mouth.
"I love you," spilled his love.
"And I love you," poured hers, down her face,
dripping from her quivering chin. Not quivering with fear. Not weeping in
sadness, but in excitement; readiness.
He took a final squeeze. She took a final breath.
They closed their eyes.
And they jumped.
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