She had known deep Wells before, she remembered them all, the wind and passion, but she felt, in a strange new way that, maybe, they would meet again, and this had proved prescient, and meet, again, they did. She had asked his name, and then his father’s name, that name which people gave carefully, or not at all, as this would give away the whole person – she had asked, instinctually, although curiosity was perfunctory to Her, as she remembered the formal aspect of individuals, unless She was drawn in a more personal way – He had not hesitated, but had given Her what she desired. Not entirely sure of His path, Her own life was filled with random and sincere individuals, transience was the commonality of public life – few friends – closer friends, even rarer.
She remembered the first night she had looked into that darkness – no, into that light in his eyes – they were level and straight, kind and compassionate, without any ado, Her hands in His, offerings of comfort and concern for Her station, the concern she felt for those close to Her, each to their own heaven or hell, and the law of attraction began to build. She was remembering His gaze, those deep pools of blue, crystalline in nature, peering deep into her soul.
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