It was a lovely September afternoon; nary a cloud could be seen, nor a hint of foreboding weather. The streets were filled with laughter, music, and the occasional delightful whiff of something scrumptious.

George and Emily were out for a stroll in the park. They passed many a couple arm and arm, who were smiling and conversing pleasantly with one another. George and Emily were attempting none of these things. Emily had been freezing him out for months now and it was only very recently that he had become aware of this. His blind infatuation - dare he say love? - had shielded him from the ugly truth of the matter. But when the evidence had been right in front of his eyes, it had been rather hard to ignore. Clearly Emily's attentions had been drawn to another and it seemed impossible to reclaim them; in vain had he repeatedly tried. By now George had all but given up and yet something had possessed him to ask her to go on this walk today and stranger still, she had agreed!

Since she had been all but avoiding him these past few weeks, he assumed she had finally come around, come back to him and they could commence where they had left off. So when she refused to take his arm and would barely even look at him, he was exceedingly puzzled and hurt. George was angry at himself for falling into this well worn trap again and as such he refused to be the first one to break the chilling silence. Swirling thoughts and sinking mood prevented him from enjoying the beautiful day before them, further increasing his resentment towards her.

Finally he couldn't take it any more and his resolve broke.

"Why did you come Emily?" he snapped. "If you were just going to be as silent as the grave, there seems little point!"

She glared at him. "I could ask you the same thing, George! You've been abominably rude to me!"

"Me, rude?!" he exclaimed incredulous, halting their forward progress. "You wouldn't even accept my arm!"

"Am I so incompetent as to be incapable of staying upright on my own?"

"Of course not! But that wasn't my point! You won't talk to me! You won't even look at me! You-"

"Stop making such a spectacle of yourself," she cut in, glancing around at the curious passersby. "It is most undignified."

"Fine," he fumed deeply. "Have it your way, Emily."

George proceeded to move away from her but she called him back and he turned to face her once more; impatiently waiting. She gestured to a large elm tree and they moved off of the stoney path and under its shade and the scrutiny of others. They sat down across from one another.

She sighed and then looked him in the eyes. "I'm sorry, George." Not sure where this was heading and not daring to hope he waited some more. "I'm sorry that I've been so distant lately. It was never my intention. I take full responsibility for this untenable situation. For you see, I should never have allowed this farce to continue as long as it did."

Despite his best efforts, those words stung him to the core. Not trusting himself to speak, he remained mute. She tried to take his hand but he unconsciously recoiled.

"You were always very kind to me and I betrayed that kindness time and time again. I see that now." Somewhat begrudgingly she added, "Julia has made me see it...amongst other things."

Still he didn't know what to say.

"I've been a coward, afraid to face the truth. And the truth is," - she paused abruptly here as if she were planning on saying one thing but then changing her mind, -"the truth is we are simply incompatible with one another on any real romantic level. Almost like brother and sister. Surely you have noticed?"

He nodded jerkily. "I've tried-"

She raised a hand. "I know. I really do." Somewhat timidly she continued with, "Haven't you wondered why I have been avoiding you so frequently?"

George scowled. "Leslie Garland," he spat out with some acid.

"Leslie?" she asked, apparently confused.

This pitiful display served to infuriate him further.

"Don't trifle with me, Emily. I know you have eyes for that...scoundrel."

"Why would you think that?"

How much of a fool did she take him for?

"Because I saw you together!" he exploded. "At The Blind Pig! You were hardly subtle!"

Uncharacteristically she sighed anew. "I admit that in my desperation to avoid my" - again she stopped talking and hastily continued in a different vein - "It wasn't what it looked like. I mean, it was, but it wasn't. What it comes down to is that I...I deluded myself into believing that I was other than I am. Again." Looking up hopefully, "Do you understand?"

"No!" he exclaimed incredulously. "I most certainly do not! Speak plainly!"

"As you wish." Eyes darting all over the place she said very softly, slightly tremulously. "George, I am a...sapphist."

The whispered word went in one ear and straight out the other.

"What?" he said bluntly. "You're a what?"

"You don't understand the meaning of the word?" she asked helplessly.

"No, I understand perfectly," he replied, slowly, befuddled. "But it doesn't make any sense all the same."

Tentatively, "I know it's a bit of a shock-"

"That's putting it mildly! We courted for over a year! You were engaged for crying out loud!"

"Engaged, George, but I couldn't go through with the marriage. At the time I simply had vague doubts...no certainty as to why the match would not do. Mostly I chalked it all up to Jerome's capricious will. However, the reason is quite...obvious to me now."

He was silent for a time. "How could you not know sooner?"

Another sigh. "Part of me did, I have no doubt. But a larger part wanted to pretend that I was...normal."

"And since when have you ever cared about that?" She raised an eyebrow. "Emily, you cut up dead bodies all day long! Hardly what I'd call normal behaviour."

"Exactly my point, George. I was already shunned by society as a bit of a novelty when I started medical school. Hard as I tried, I never really belonged there. My...proclivities were not going to make my life any easier, should they be known, if only to myself. Which is why I chose to become a pathologist instead of a regular doctor. This way I could attempt to avoid undesirable human interactions...and consequently my true nature." She stared at him closely. "And this tactic worked for a time but then you started paying me undue attentions and I thought maybe...maybe things would be different this time." Looking away, "But they weren't."

"So I was a-a morgue rat?" he said heatedly. "And nothing else?"

"No, of course not, George," she said trying to take his hand again. Again he pulled away. "You were a great friend to me when I most needed it. I'll be forever grateful for that. And I do have feelings for you still...but they are only of the familial kind. I'm afraid I'm not capable of loving you in any other way."

Another awkward silence. "I wish you had figured this out sooner, Emily," he lamented again. "Now..."

"Now, what, George?" He glanced sideways as tears threatened to spill forth.

"Now I'm forever doomed to love a...ghost."

"Don't say that, George," she said this time successfully taking his hand. "You will find someone else to love. I'm sure of it." She smiled thinly, and squeezed his hand. "A fine specimen like yourself will attract a new admirer with ease. Just you wait."

"If you say so, Emily," he muttered dejectedly, staring blankly into the distance.