The Gift

She startled him, standing gently in the doorway to his shop that way.

He had sensed her pending arrival a few weeks before, but had given leave of this latest permutation after endlessly dusting the display of her latest book near the front door. And there she stands before him once more. The morning sunlight behind her pale to the color of her radiance now filling the room. He smiles.

“So . . . “ he begins, but is never quite sure if he finished his thought as he finds her in his arms. Years become moments to the silence of their embrace.

“Yes . . . “she whispers under her breath as they part to accept the gaze of each other’s love.

“The book !!” his words stumble forward and startle them both. “It’s a very good seller !” he says as he proudly motions to his display.

“Yes, the book,” she smiles with pride. “Truly one of my own. I’m pleased that you like it.” She pauses to take in the magnitude of this creation. “But, don’t you think that you’ve overdone the display just a little?” she laughs with appreciation of his thoughtfulness.

“It’s one of my favorites ! Besides, I have great fun telling those who have read it how I knew you way back when.”

Each steps back somewhat nervously and look about the store.

He suddenly recalls, “Since your book first came out I have hoped you’d stop by. I kept the first copy I received here at the store for you to autograph.” He pulls a boxed copy from his desk. “I special ordered this one. A proof print, you know. Would you do me the honor?”

“Of course,” she replies taking the book and a special pen he had provided. She spends no time at all to write what was to be written as if the words had been born so long ago. The cover closed, the book finds its way to the box, the box to the drawer, the drawer under lock and key. He will read the inscription after she has gone.

“Tell me now, how long can you stay?” He asks too soon that fatal question, a question he never understood to be the one that sent her away.

“I would enjoy spending the morning just sharing our moment with each other,” she says taking his hand and placing his palm over her heart.

He smiles that smile of remembering and runs the finger of his other hand over her lips and whispers, “I know . . . . . . with no strings attached.”

Hand in had they stroll all day to remember this and fancy that. Through the gift they gave each other, they found one thing they truly have.