Marta leaned in, took Dune’s face in her hands, and kissed her, gentle, slow and innocent, once on the mouth, and once on the forehead. Her hands lingered for a moment before dropping.

“Ok,” she said, clearing her throat. “See you.”

Dune nodded, the pressure now in her shoulders, jaw, tongue. She didn’t think they would see each other again.

Marta turned and walked to the street. She paused at the small gate for a moment and looked back. Dune wondered what Lot’s wife’s name was. She saw Marta in that moment as if looking through a warp in time, the sun a brighter color, in a city where death could be avoided. She saw, briefly, her love, her tender sweet love.

But then Marta was walking, her beautiful sashay reduced to a shuffle that let Dune know she was crying as she left. If she’d had the right attire on, Marta would be ripping at her clothes and wailing; she felt everything at the level of her skin.

Dune knew this wasn’t really even a choice, all she could do was observe the truth; this tiny love couldn’t fill her palm, couldn’t even be seen in the cave of her heart. She sat on the porch and let herself soften, wishing for a breeze, a respite. She noticed that it was beautiful outside, the heat, the heavy brightness, the verdant span of life bursting, bushes drooping with thick flower, sidewalks splitting with new growth at every seam. It had been a fucking beautiful summer.

When Marta was gone, Dune pressed her palms against her eyes, resting her elbows against her knees, and rocked herself.

Dune was making love to Marta.

They were in the backyard, next to the fire pit. Marta was on top of her, hair in pony tails like when they first met, no panties under her skirt, her white sweater pulled up, nipples gathered into hard knots at the tips of smooth creamy breasts, heavy over her soft belly. Dune was sucking sweet warm milk first from one breast, then the other, while Marta rocked down against her.

From the side of her eye, Dune noticed that Marta was fading, one part at a time, left hand, then arm, right arm, legs below the knees. All the while she kept speeding up, thrusting herself bare against Dune’s pelvis.

Dune reached up and held Marta’s hips, tried to reach her fingers down and into her lover, to keep her here. As soon as she touched the wet, it was gone. Marta’s neck faded, her jaw, but Dune kept drinking from her, even when Marta was just weight, eyes, pleasure mouth, nipples. With an orgasmic gasp and shudder, Marta was gone, leaving a sticky mess all over Dune’s belly, crotch and thighs.

Dune realized the fire pit beside her was raging, strange faces watching her from the flames, filling the whole sky with smoke.