Her favorite time of the day was dusk. Not sunset, not sunrise, not high noon, not midnight. Only those few short moments when the sky is fading into blackness; when stars and moon are merely white spots against a pale canvas.
He breathed in the crisp air; inside of his chest, a long-forgotten vigor roared to life as the breeze stirred at his clothes and hair. He knew one step forward to send him plummetting, and the adrenalin and fear coursed through his veins -[simultaneously scalding and refreshing.] Freedom filled him, made him feel weightless and magnificient - a being not of the earth, but the air.
He spread his hands out wide in front of him, succumbing to the urge to feel the rushing current against his inner arms and sides. He fought to open his eyes as the breeze turned into a gust.
Her long curls blew about wildly, but she didn’t seem to mind. Her eyes were closed, her arms stretched out as his still were. He wondered if she was aware of him watching.
She looked marvellous; the strawberry red of her hair billowing around her freckled skin. She wore a sunshine yellow bikini that should have clashed with her skin but didn’t; instead, it glowed brilliantly on her - absorbing the last traces of warm sunlight and silhouetting her in them. He missed her wide, olive green eyes.