John and George veered off the paved road and began
their slow ascent up the narrow dirt trail that ran alongside Ms. Whitman's backyard fence.
This time of year, her apple trees were swelling with vibrant red fruit,
and several branches draped gracefully over the fence, offering shade and a snack
for those on the trail.
John could just barely see over the fence to the peaceful
garden that had become Ms. Whitman's full-time job since she retired
from her post as Head Archivist for the Mars Project.
They spotted Ms. Whitman perched on a ladder picking apples,
and they waved.
"It's a fine day," she called out, as she wiped her forehead
with the back of a glove.
"A fine day for apple pie, I'd say," said George laughing
and winking at her.
"Picking today George, pies tomorrow. John, you tell your grandfather to behave."
"Yes, ma'am, I'll set him straight".
'I'm truly going to miss that fine young man,' she thought to herself as
George and John waved goodbye and continued on up the trail.
She smiled, thinking about George. They had both lost their partners five years
ago when the Pulse had struck. Somehow, they had found each other and had become close friends.
One day, not so long ago, they had been working out in the garden together and had suddenly realized in the same moment
that they were in love.
'I'll see you tomorrow George, she thought. 'And we'll have our pie and talk of John.'
She blew a kiss then, her gloved hand to her lips, directing it up the trail to the two figures
who at last disappeared from view.