Ultimately amid all the sadness and sulking and the deeply unnerving, very upsetting irritability of an irrational situation, he had to let her go.
“I am in love with the wind.” She had explained.
He neither complained nor objected. No. he was too much of a gentleman, too much the alpha male, and a staunch believer that contention and objection were qualities of the less gentlemanly folk
He had to let her go.
Somewhere far away, Atemi’s Sunny Day was playing, her voice mellow like a freshly cut Peach. It hardly felt like a Sunny Day to him.
Why now, Atemi, why?
Now, he has to content himself with the unrewarding emotional task of loving the cold. He would fall in love so deeply with the cold that in spite of its infamous raging shiveriness and shrewishness, he would curve a heart of lava out of it.