Sanctuary

"Coffee?" he asked softly. "Wow, I just dropped right off," she said in reply, blinking. "Yes, coffee immediately, please." The morning light seemed to follow him into the kitchen; he hadn't aged a day. "So handsome," she whispered, and it was as if she recalled missing him greatly (but he was right here). "I feel really hazy," she shared, as he returned and offered his hand. "Just go slowly," he answered. "Let's have our coffee on the veranda today." "Oooo, the VERANDA," she teased him, laying her head on his shoulder as they walked outside. As far as the eye could see, the light touched every leaf and blade of grass, top of head and tip of tail that turned to greet them; there were dogs and elephants, cats and monkeys, bears and parrots and bees and a sea at the edge of forever where an impossible number of whales were breaching. "What ... what IS this?" she whispered, tearing up. "Home," he answered, setting the cups down and taking her hand. And she knew then, accepted it readily, turning to him with a full heart. "Doctor Doolittle can suck it," she sighed. "Oh, that mouth," Allen laughed, and leaned over to kiss it.