I am terrified by this dark thing that sleeps in me. All day I feel its soft, feathery turnings, its malignity. Clouds pass and disperse. Are those the faces of love, those pale irretrievables? Is it for such I agitate my heart? I am incapable of more knowledge. What is this, this face so murderous in its strangle of branches? Its snaky acids kiss. It petrifies the will. These are the isolate, slow faults that kill, that kill, that kill.
She kissed him with everything she had until he got over his shock and kissed her back. When they pulled away she stood on her tiptoes as much as she could so she could press her forehead to his, “You do make me happy. James, you- you do and- and you deserve the world.” She whispered against his lips, her hands tangled in his hair. She felt him smile, one of his hands coming up to brush against her cheek. His voice was soft, “I don’t need the world, Evans. I just need you.”