2022-07-31 21:34:35 ¶ ●

Nobody really knows what happened to Jonathan Simms and Martin Blackwood as The Margus Institute fell. Nobody watched as Martin clung to Jon’s lifeless body, sobbing, as warm sticky blood pooled around his feet, mirroring the creeping loneliness grasping out, reaching to grab and tear away. No one could know (for how would they?) whether, in a fit of desperation, Martin cried out his lovers name in anguish.

No person could know what happened, as two lovers entwined were showered with harsh stone and metal and other things that make up a building so cruel as to entomb them. Did Martin shield his eyes from the rising dust? Did he try to protect Jon, hoping that recovery might be possible if they could just make it through this moment? Did he utter a prayer?

I don’t know.

But I hope, however foolishly, that when the dust cleared, they found themself someplace else. Somewhere soft, and warm, and kind. Somewhere tinged not with hatred, or power, but bliss. And perhaps in that suntinged moment, the two would sit up, and shuffle a little too close together. Maybe they’d watch something beautiful, like a sunset or a calm, glimmering ocean. Could they, for the first time, together, experience a moment not touched by fear. And maybe, just maybe, the cassette player beside them wouldn’t hold a statement, but a well worn collection of love songs. The kind of tape they might’ve had for years, been gifted at their wedding, and played at every anniversary- the sort of tape that you might waltz to in the kitchen on a slow Sunday morning. And as a weary hand clicks ‘play’, and nostalgiac tunes crackle out of that faithful little machine, they might turn to each other.

They might look into each others eyes and for the first time have no agenda, no reason to. And maybe they’ll let go of that breath that they’ve been holding since the minute they first really saw each other, and maybe they’ll relax. Hand in hand, safe, forgiven, and truly, completely together.