“Hilly?”

“What?” Hilly muttered.

“It was cold where I was.”

“Was it?”

“Yes.”

“Better now?”

“Better. I love you, Hilly.”

“I love you too, David. I'm sorry.”

“For what?”

“I dunno.”

“Oh.”

David's hand groped for the blanket, found it, and pulled it up. Ninety-three million miles from the sun and a hundred parsecs from the axis-pole of the galaxy, Hilly and David Brown slept in each other's arms.

August 19th, 1982-May 19th, 1987