[ This is a child's game, pretending they are other than what they are but -- no this is exactly what they are. So the game is that, if the world had been fair, if the world had been kind, if it had been right. If the truth had anything to do with it, they might never have to forget each other. But as it stands, there was no going back now. ]

No one said eternity made men clever. [ sharp little dig for as much him as her, but it's kindly meant. ] It could not be more different to here, or France, or any of the countries this side of the continent. [ Tips her cup, watching the almost gone amber liquid catch the light. Could be sun glittering for all their present dreaming, and suddenly the drink is stomachable, a fair price to pay for drinking light. ] It will build and build with heat, until it's cloying in the back of your throat, there is no relief at night either that way. Summers are generous that way. [ The cup is set down, she leans forward with her hand to where he lingers and ghosts the space between them, a drawn up line, to his pulse. ] Sometimes you think you can feel it in your blood itself, it settles itself into each breath. Then just when you think you can take no more of it - it breaks. Then it will storm, for hours the rain will pour down in torrents before just as suddenly, it is gone. It goes like this for all of summer.

[ Her hand withdraws, eyes on him. Warm, warm, warm, with the summers she speaks of. ] It is not forgiving, rather the heat can be maddening at times.