Fade out.

He lives in the heart of his heart, and shares with no one the secrets that meander through the crevices of his life. Sometimes, just sometimes, when he puts his palm against hers, the secrets become her own. Without knowledge of why and what, she accepts this token of approval and swears not to betray. The map of their (uncertain) time together has been swallowed by tears and water, there are blots and blurs where there were cities and oceans once. They go on, though even the uncertainty isn't confirmed. Nothing is, nothing ever can be when you cross lines not meant to be crossed, and that, is what she has done.

But it is alright for now, the cracks momentarily hidden between their palms, like a flaw hidden in a delicate porcelain vase. Now it's broken, now it's not, there's no telling who will display the wrong side, bring out the very obvious mistake. There is a sigh of relief and an oath of apology.

The effervescence is gone, leaving in the wake of this loss a glowing, spectral hue. This translucent tragedy, with its beautifully tearing up halo, a victory with an unfulfilled w(hole) in it.