Harper’s visit

Harper hung in cemeteries, where he rarely made a sound except the bending grass beneath his feet as he meandered between epitaphs. Each evening he would meet with ghosts who spoke to him from pearls of dew that perished in the dirt before he learnt their names.

April stayed out late as well but dwelled with different spirits, telling jokes to empty glasses from the last seat at her little bar, the star of weekday evenings. Her friends would tend to come and leave between the turn of suns, though never much concern to make acquaintance with familiar faces ever graced her since she’d been convinced companionship came mixed in ice with bitters.

One morning just before the sun sent more than subtle hints at waking–almost, but not quite, importing light of day–Harper parted ways with the expired souls he styled fellows, and he filed from the iron-gated graveyard as the ether leisurely bloomed into dew. Not far from there, where asphalt streets retreated into alleyways–alive with wild sheens of neon diving from the window panes of places always open–April raised a toast and closed the door behind her night before the morning light could make a more assertive argument against another drink. In passing, April scantly paid a glance that Harper hardly noticed. But both were somehow overcome by something so engrossing only after moving on did either take a second look, and only when they turned to see each other out of sight did they discover what the both of them determined might be love.

A moment passed, as happens often in the turn of time, and with it went the breath that ended April’s life. Not Harper nor another learned the purpose for her fate, or even that she’d been intered within the very cemetery Harper used to visit, for in the instant that she vanished it so happened Harper apprehended that he had a thirst the first to him which only spirits of the ilk that April drank could sate.

And so it was that Harper took her place there at the lounge while April made her jokes with vapors in the evening and when morning came she glistened in the dew that fell in lonely pearls unvisited upon the cemetery grounds.

#paris #france

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