She looked at me, but her stare had fled. Motionless once more, her face was still carved as though from maple or cherry. I started to speak, but her eyes, before so eloquent with her tale of struggle, defeat, and sorrow, now communicated a request for silence.

Instead of speaking, I grinned, knowing that my face would proclaim the love that my words should not, knowing that she would understand both its animal necessity and its lofty adoration.

With a sound unheard but felt, her features creaked into an answering smile of gratitude. Then we both turned away, she diving further into the museum while I went to meet Clarissa.

As I made my way through the crowd, I could still feel her steps echoing through the swarm of surrounding people. And I knew that I would see her again, that we were now tied by a bond deeper than words.