After she had cleaned up the floodwaters and chivvied the snarling clouds back into their pen, she returned to the bower, where her lover sat, hangdog and fuming.
“I didn’t mean to ruin it,” he said, before she could speak. “I wanted to make a beautiful storm for you.”
“I didn’t ask,” she answered. “But tell me, since you bring it up: why?”
“Because I’m not divine. I’m just a man. I wanted to do something. To be something. Why would you love me otherwise?
“Silly,” she said, wrapping her arms around him. “You are special because you are mine.”
Advent Calendar : Milk – XI
9 hours ago