Maisie and her love made love, in the bruised twilight, in the swelter of the fading summer day, in the gentle darkness of her room, lit only by the porcelain mermaid lamp, the hazy autumn glow.

Her old stereo still finding use, an old mix CD of shoegaze with female vocals, the humid heat and the enveloping music and the angelic singing and Maisie and her love losing each other in the others body, finding it all in loss.

After, despite the sweat and racing hearts and the thrum of their ecstatic skin, the wrap the comforter around themselves as the soft golden light soothes them to sleep, and the angelic singing makes them seers of their dreams.

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