As the waves rushed towards her, she plunged her feet deep into the sand. She stared hard at the eyes of the sunset, perhaps frozen in the dim light of day.
"I've never liked sunset, you know," she turned and said.
"I know you don't like it. You're afraid of the approaching darkness. I also know that the darkness reminded you of that evening when you were playing hide-and-seek with your friends, and they left you trapped in a dark barn." She narrowed her eyes and smiled.
"Do you remember that story?" "I haven't forgotten anything, Princess. I clearly remember everything you told me." I whispered and looking at the horizon.
A long silence follows when we both sink into our memories. I couldn't believe she was standing here, right next to me, so close that I could hug her if I wanted to. How many nights have I spent in these last twenty years, standing on the empty roof of my lonely house, looking at the front gate of the house, wishing that she would enter through the gate and be mine forever?!! How many mornings have I slept in my bed, refusing to believe that she was in a distant land beyond my reach? I have wanted this moment many times, dreaming of this moment. I never thought what it would mean for her.
We stared at the sun, overwhelmed by the still waves. When the sky turned yellow, she suddenly turned around and muttered, "Let's go." Her voice was soft yet melodious; It always reminds me of my mother's voice. Age did not take away the pink-pink blush of her face; her long black hair was swaying in the wind. Didn't I want to touch her neck smoothly and tell her soul how I felt? What stopped me, I wondered.
She suddenly called me last evening, and I was overjoyed. "Hello?" Trembling to hear, twenty years old, longing, anger, and love awoke in me. A moment's pause, then I answered in an exasperated voice, "I knew you would call, Princess." I knew, always. She told me everything. She was concerned at first. Maybe she had been crying for a while. I did not ask. I listened patiently to everything else. I got home from work, and she called me when I was in the kitchen.
After she took her last breath, I gave her a moment to swallow her fear, then gently told her, "Pack your things, and get ready; I'll get you in an hour."