“Alice your so god damn poetic …” Shane ruffled Alice’s dishevelled hair a little more than the style required.

“I think I am like the passer-by that’s fascinated by old Church architecture, I admire the institution but I am not a worshiper. Now, with friendship I am a believer, real sustenance can be drawn from that, truth and warmth and it’s a real as the bottle in my hand; I can trust it. But when you throw passion into the mix, like the preverbal red mist, how the hell do you know real from fake ? I have seen it work, I am watching an example here tonight, but I must say, the odds are surely stacked against it…..who knows, for sure its not a given, but it does not invalidate a life without it. There are many ways to know real feeling, to be touched by love without it being in a relationship context.” Shane continued to peel at the label waning in her grasp.

Tina pursed her lips thinking, and mused further; “we are so lucky to contemplate in comfort, the emotion, the very thing we speak of, that we have wrapped around us already tonight.” Tina continued to find words from her deep comfort as Bette continued to caress her feet and available lower legs. “For sure life is varied enough to show us the truth that modern lifestyles, maybe all pre-existing lifestyles too, have all skewed what is important in the brief time we have here. We are, as a species, simply horrible at appreciating what we have. Every one has an agenda, I suppose its finding mutual ones. People do come and go, and as clichéd as it sounds, you have to cherish what you have, for as long as you have it, for there are no guarantees. If you find anything special, give it your best, drop your pride and expectation and allow it to fill you to the brim. Should it, at a later date be no more, it does not nullify the experience, you take it with you.” Tina left the room to silence, all that could be heard was “O Mio Babbino Caro” and the slight ripping sounds of the flares in the garden standing against the breeze.

Conversation simmered down, as the Kettle sang and coffee flowed, to the trivial capricious topics, that found laughter and frustrations in equal measure amongst them all.

Tina leaned into the kitchen counter sipping her tea, and listening to the chatter of friends.

She slipped quietly back into her garden, surreptitiously stealing a small blanket to tuck over her shoulders. Cupping and blowing out the Flares as she toured and inspected her haven, she circled back round to look in to see the animated faces and found one tuned to her. She thought silently, that if love was anything at all, it was that silk thread that can span tides but always remains sensitive to the soul on the other end, near or far, you always felt their presence tied to you, a warm sentient awareness that humbles you as deeply as it mesmerises.

What a bitter sweet World we endure, the more we pause, the more we feel.

Tina cast her eyes about once more, inhaled deeply, and stepped lightly back in to her home.