Sand and Sun. That's the setting as I best remember it. We stood by a stream, and the sun warmed us. We stood and hugged one another - your body soft, your scent gentle and sweet, your embrace all-consuming. I lost myself for a moment as I willed those few short, blissful moments to stretch out into eternity. "When I die", I thought, "if I could choose only to revisit a single moment of my life this would be the one. I'd come back here." Nothing was more perfect than that moment, that embrace.


The connection, the joy I felt simply being around you and the bond we shared. Those embers were rekindled in that instant, igniting into an inferno that incinerated the eighteen months of uncertainty. The three months of agony.

Even your parting embrace was more perfect than anything I'd ever known. Time evaporated. I understood. This would be our last chance, the last time we'd see one another. I explained it to you and you laughed at me - told me not to be silly. You were leaving for a while, maybe two years. Maybe when you got back things would make sense. I'd see.

I longed to believe you, but I knew better. I'd seen the future. The warmth of your presence, the serenity I felt, the sense of connection and understanding: all instantly annihilated by the excruciating certainty I felt about what would soon transpire.

There would be no next time. I clung to you as long for as I could. If only I could make you understand. Perhaps it was better that you did not comprehend the full extent of what I knew. Oh, blissful ignorance! The terrible burden of knowledge was mine. Alas, I could not make you see.

As we parted, you smiled at me. That smile, the long brown hair, those deep brown eyes. The moment lasted for an instant, and was gone. As you walked away from me for the last time, clinging to futile hope: I begged of you: "Don't eat the satay sauce".

Perhaps I should have said, "I love you".