"I think we deserve
a soft epilogue, my love.
we are good people
and we've suffered enough."
a soft epilogue, my love.
we are good people
and we've suffered enough."
It's rare that anyone likes his questions.
Michael likes to pry - he likes to pull things apart, pick at the pieces that hurt and pull back the dead skin to see what's inside: blood, and more blood, and pain. Michael says, here is your suffering, and I will sit in it with you. Michael says, you don't have to let it go now, but you have to let it go eventually. He does this while smiling like buttermilk and he does this bent under the weight of his own heavy heart.
The wind howls down the mountain. Michael has to tilt his head to keep the scarf out of his eyes. He has stepped into some part of Toro that not many get to see and he has this distinct feeling that he has done something wrong - the tight-chested panic of standing on sacred ground. The leering eyes of the pious.
They are staring at each other and it is far too long before either averts their eyes. It is Michael first, matching Toro's empty laughter with some of his own, but breathless. When he laughs it sounds like apple cider.
"I think I live here?" And because he is laughing already he keeps on laughing. It echoes off the rock and bounces down the mountainside with the wind. "I think we're a lot alike. I'm not sure that's good for me." But he smiles anyway, and it is not unkind.
As if to say, anyway, Michael take one last deep breath, then turns to continue up the mountain. He thinks of a dragon and a golden cage and what it meant to fly. He hopes he never feels like flying again. The golden horse says over his shoulder, barely even turning his head, "So, why are you here now?"
@El Toro
