An old man leans forward, hugging a hand-hewn fence rail against his chest, sun bombing down the hillside behind him, and says to his shadow, "Remember that girl I was madly in love with?"
His shadow remains silent, a film negative on yellowing grass amid flickering leaves from trees.
"Remember that girl I made love to, and felt my body lifting out of itself to float in an ocean of night, wreathed in her beautiful light, stars like teeth devouring me whole, until I was nothing?"
His shadow mirrors the old man's shoulders in a sigh, and finally says, "I do."
The old man sofly smiles, and says, "Let's moon over her for a while."
His shadow says nothing, wind scattering rags of shade across the land like wild Appaloosas in full stride.
An old woman leans forward against the kitchen sink, peering out the window, sun wreathing her in light, when her shadow asks from the linoleum tile, "Remember that boy you were madly in love with?"
The old woman is silent, lost in the flickering light of a film projector in her mind.
"Remember that boy you made love to, and showed your magic and the stars to, holding onto one another, naked, shivering on the moon of Europa, until you became whole?"
The old woman's shoulders mirrors her shadow's sigh, and finally says, "I do."
Before the shadow proceeds to speak, a soft smile materializes on the old woman's face, "He's mooning over me again, isn't he?"
Her shadow says, "He is."
"Let him moon for a while. He does so like to moon."
The old woman adjusts her glasses, watching time scatter around the old man and his shadow like wild Appaloosas in full stride, before adding, "Then tell him supper's ready and he'll stop."
Ron Gibson, Jr. has previously appeared in Pidgeonholes, Maudlin House, The Vignette Review, Ghost City Review, Word Riot, Cease Cows, Spelk Fiction, Firefly Magazine, Ink in Thirds, Gravel Magazine, Unbroken Journal, etc…, forthcoming at Foliate Oak Magazine, been included in various anthologies, and been nominated for two Pushcarts. @sirabsurd