It was night and mosquitoes.

She could not remember if they like light or dark and so stood on the edge of shadow.

He leaned toward water. He leaned himself toward rock.

He whispered dim words. He whispered church whispers, sounds of a darker, other, place.

Waves against rock and still his sounds were more liquid. She did not understand, but watched the moon which she also did not understand.

He seemed a man other than himself.

He seemed a man he did not know.