Free to Love

Robert Quick

Where the -@!# did my muse go?

Writer, dreamer, knight, shackled by entertainment . . . and people.

We climbed to the top of Memorial Hill. I didn't think too much of the flag flapping above us. My mind was totally on Nataxia. Her hand glowed inside mine, warm against the Autumn night.

Stone benches ringed the flowerbed and the block of bronze emblazoned with names of the men the city sent to war. I didn't know any of them. They weren't my family. I just thought the place was pretty with a good view of the city. Nataxia's blond hair whipped back and forth in front of her face and no matter how often she brushed it behind her ears, it was wrenched free to fly in the wind. Taking a seat, we straddled a bench and I molded my body around her like a living parka, protecting her from the brunt of the cool air. Arms around her middle, I hugged her close and asked her what she thought of the place.

She gazed into the star-scattered sky and said, “It's thick. Magical. I can almost hear music.”

For the first time in my life, I knew what to do. Rising to my feet, I bowed and offered my hand to her. “Do you dance?”


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Comments (1 so far!)

ElshaHawk LoA

ElshaHawk LoA

Aww, sweet moment, but in a strange place. I guess if you are in love, you can make any place a date place.

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