And In

 And in the carefully crafted questions, in the pillow spill whispers, there was always a single place that might be even better than the one that they were in.

And in the descriptions in their sentences it was the palest of blue skies swooning with scars from high white clouds, cat scratches across the surface above, wavering and bending in high tropical winds.  And in his recollection she had mentioned the flour-like feel of the sand, that indented slowly in their footprints.

And in their world at this place there was never another soul...another human. Rather an infinite absence of any distractions, allowing a full and unfettered focus...

And in the winds there was the slight scent of hibiscus, filagree...a fragrance both familiar yet almost forgotten...until it invaded your senses and pulled you back into a time that you had overlooked for some reason and now you were completely transformed in history.

And in the still wet bathing suits flung to the floor, kicked off in the haste to collide with each other, the coolness of the tile elicited shivers until he could turn the knob of the shower and push it to warm...the waters dousing them as they congregated each other into their arms, their legs a bit intertwined, the quick reach for soap and the slippery suds now glazing them.

And in the drowning sounds of the shower they cleansed...purging the sand and the salt.