From the giant opaque penthouse windows he watched her return to the street. Had her recent presence born in him the minutest of desire, he might have flown from his place high in the sky to meet her on the walkway below. For, his had been a life of ease. Aside from brief moments of want for a father too many times in absence, his every whim was addressed.
Now what he wanted most was to go back - perhaps to a place where his age was closer to hers. As if to ride the time-space elemental force - empty air cool and soothing, to travel around a universe of stars and distant blue, beautiful spheres, each bathed in a translucent silvery show never before seen or imagined. A place so minute in the grand understanding of things, yet magnanimous in each of their individual essentiality. Shooting from galaxy to galaxy, until, as yet undiscovered breaches in our own understanding of things, carry him - placing him soft as crimson dawn to lay where she lay - that she might hold him as he has never been held...
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