Jill Xương

“Time ain’t nothing, but time. It’s a verse with no rhyme,
And it all come down to you.
«El tiempo solo es tiempo. Es un verso sin rima, y todo depende de ti.»”
― Kerstin Gier, Saphirblau

“It’s funny, but I was just thinking I wouldn’t mind a repeat of that boring evening when we elapsed to 1953,” said Gideon. “Just you and me and Cousin Sofa.”
― Kerstin Gier, Saphirblau

“True love knows no constraints, no locks or bars.
Past every obstacle it makes its way.
It spreads it wings to soar toward the stars,
No earthly power will make it stop or stay.”
― Kerstin Gier, Saphirblau

“I only wanted to . . . I mean, just now, when Mr. George interrupted us, there was something very important I wanted to say to you.”
“It is about what I told you in the church yesterday? I mean, I can understand that you may think me crazy because I see these beings, but a psychiatrist wouldn’t make any difference.”
Gideon frowned. “Just keep quiet for a moment, would you? I have to pluck up all my courage to make you a declaration of love . . . I’ve had absolutely no practice in this kind of thing.”
“What?”
“Gwyneth,” he said, perfectly seriously, “I’ve fallen in love with you.”
My stomach muscles contracted as if I’d had a shock. But it was joy. “Really?”
“Yes, really!” In the light of the torch I saw Gideon smile. “I do realize we’ve known each other for less than a week, and at first I thought you were rather . . . childish, and I probably behaved badly to you. But you’re terribly complicated, I never know what you’ll do next, and in some ways you really are terrifyingly . . . er. . . naïve. Sometimes I just want to shake you.”
“Okay, I can see you were right about having no practice in making declarations of love,” I agreed.
“But then you’re so amusing, and clever, and amazingly sweet,” Gideon went on, as if he hadn’t heard me. “And the worst of it is, you only have to be in the same room and I need to touch you and kiss you . . .”
“Yes, that’s really too bad,” I whispered, and my heart turned over as Gideon took the hatpin out of my hair, tossed the feathered monstrosity into the air to fall on the floor, draw me close, and kissed me. About three minutes later, I was leaning against the wall, totally breathless, making an effort to stay upright.
“Hey, Gwyneth, try breathing in and out in the normal way,” said Gideon, amused.
I gave him a little push. “Stop that! I can’t believe how conceited you are!”
“Sorry. It’s just such a . . . a heady feeling to think you’d forget to breathe on my account.”
― Kerstin Gier, Saphirblau