Kate’s silver hair matted to her sweating brow in darkening strands. Her haggard gasps betrayed a youth where smoking was fashionable. Yet she urged him forward, clenched against his body, moaning. Brown spots and deepening creases on his chest marked the passage of time where taut skin once stretched over hard muscle.
But some things never grow old.
Gratefully, age provided them with a confidence that youthful uncertainty steals. He was hers, and she was his. Completely. She loved his wrinkled brow and knowing smile. Together they felt young again, their bodies grinding, turning grey ashes into smoky fires.