they sat together on a grassy knoll in the fading rays of winter's light when all of a sudden the boy's conversation halted, like a stream of water arrested by the abrupt diversion of its flow.
what what is it she followed his gaze into the clouds, trying to discern the object of his fixation
shhh he urged with a finger to his lips, ear still cocked to the heavens
for a minute, they were completely still; he, the attentive statue and she, his bewildered attendant.
do you hear that his voice was hushed, almost whispering
what?
---
"what was that, by the way? that sound at the end of your sentence"
a look of puzzlement pinched her features for a moment, before being chased away by epiphany. a tender smile blossomed on her lips as she recalled the sweet weight of the syllable on her tongue.
"it's nothing," she replied, "just an old habit of mine."
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