They loved each other in a way. It was a mystery even after decades. They had loved passionately and then with bitter desire, and then with silence; The silence came with goals and purpose, each their own. They loved without words.

And now after so long together, they loved in even a different way. It now came unnoticeably and without fanfare or warning. It was as surprising as breathing or a bland meal. IT was no longer daily or weekly, but yearly. IT was quiet, almost difficult to define. It was there but only barely.

Perhaps love runs its course in those of us who do such things? But they hung on nevertheless, always looking for more or better even when those things were not important. Even when, with years of thought, they realized that they never really existed. But they loved each other anyway.

Their love was either unfathomably deep like and endless ocean, or dry and imaginary like a mirage in the desert. It didn’t matter anyway. Not after so many years. Not after so many secrets had been shared and promises made.