Title: THE GRIEF OF GOLDEN WINKLE
Disclaimers: Sadly, I do not own anything or anybody related to CSI. Nor the lines I quoted in the story. :(
Dedicated to my friend, Gator. :) Love you!
It was a rainy afternoon in Las Vegas. That was a scarce event in the desert but once it started raining, it poured down without respect of persons. People could be cranky, irritable, frustrated or even angry when the weather was extremely hot and listless, depressed or perhaps sleepily lethargic when it was cold, rainy and gloomy. There was a deafening silence in Grissom's townhouse. Everything was quiet, only the rain drops composed their surreal symphony. Sara was sitting on his couch thinking about the possible link between weather and people's mood. In collage, she had read an article about studies that linked weather with long periods of high temperatures to increase in crime. Well, according to that article, the investigators could sit back today. Sara enjoyed the silence for a while but soon she got bored. With Grissom sleeping in his bedroom, there was nothing she could do but wait for him to wake up. Being an insomniac was an annoyance and quite bad for health.
"I never sleep, I'm like Samara in the movie, The Ring," she told the pillow she was holding. "No, I'm not Samara, she was evil, while I'm a honeybee as Griss calls me."
At this memory, she cheered up and decided to surprise her gentleman. She wanted to celebrate the 307th day of their blooming relationship. Not that she counted the days but she wanted to live every day together with this amazing man. So last week, they had celebrated their 300th day together. Officially. Yes, as officially as it could be within their homes' walls. Out of their caves, they were just colleagues.
Sara wanted to give him something meaningful, something symbolic this time. And the idea was born. She went into the room of horror, looked around and immediately had second thoughts. The normally fearless woman stepped back at the sight of tanks and terrariums but then stopped and although, a chill ran down her spine, she approached one of the creepy homes of spiders.
Only with a short hesitation that lasted about two minutes actually, she placed the cover of the terrarium onto the table nearby. Looked into the fake residence and her eyes grew wide. Slowly she reached for him or her; it did not matter to Sara right now. The hairy thing lifted one of its legs as if it wanted to shake hands with this intruder.
"Okay, that's it," she squealed and pulled her hand back. She took the cover back, "Take that you hideous spawn of Satan…oh, sorry, you…you…um…leggy thing."
Sara Sidle was not known as a woman who got cold feet. So she chose another, much more amiable tank. "What trouble could some cockroaches make?" she thought. Soon, a little container was found and those creatures were put in it. Sara was smiling at how brave she was when a couple of soft knocks could be heard. She left the door to the kitchen of Frankenstein ajar and went to see who had come.
"Brass! Come on in," she greeted the only person who knew about her relationship with Grissom.
"Hello Doll, don't tell me you're alone."
"No, Griss is sleeping," she told him with a naughty smile.
"Well, well, the old growling bear is exhausted," Brass started to giggle at his own joke.
"Don't call him old. He's very energetic and tireless when those qualities are needed…if you ask me."
"But I didn't. I really don't need you to plant pictures of him being hyperactive in God knows what activities, okay?"
"So, what's up, Jim?"
"I just couldn't resist the temptation to check on my favorite lovebirds."
"We haven't killed each other…yet," she smiled at Brass. Both knew that violence was not in their vocabulary.
"Unlimited sex could kill, too. Did you know that?"
"Did you?" she challenged him.
"I wish I knew."
"Want some coffee?"
"Oh, the famous Sidle strategy of distraction but why not?"
They were enjoying their hot beverages when suddenly Brass jumped up and like a crazy man started his never seen savage dance. At first only one crack, then another and one more could be heard.
Shocked, Sara also stood up to see what that was about, "What was that?"
"Girl, this house needs some cleaning. Gil has bugs running in the kitchen!"
"What bugs? This is practically a museum, there is no way there are bugs in here."
Taking his shoe off, he showed Sara the victims, "See? I wouldn't call these hairballs."
"Oh, noooooo!" she vocalized her fear.
"Don't worry now. They are all dead."
"Oh, nooooooo! These are Griss' roaches and now they are dead."
"Yes, I know. I trampled on them and no one can survive my weight," he said proudly. "I know Gil loves bugs but I highly doubt that he would be happy about them running freely in his home."
"You don't understand. These guys were the direct offspring of his famous ones that he loved racing. He said this is the golden bloodline. Only a few were able to live longer than a year. And he managed to keep them alive longer than two years. And these guys were now almost two years. And now, I killed them."
"Oh-oh. Houston, we've a problem," Brass tried to console Sara who had tears in her eyes. And maybe fear?
"You sure they are dead? Can't we do something to bring them back to life?" she asked trustingly but she already knew the answer.
"Well, they are very dead. And by the way, I killed them, not you."
"It's my fault. What we gonna do now?" she cried. "He'll be devastated and will hate me."
"What if we just put them back in their bowl and pretend that we don't know a clue about their whereabouts?"
"Yes, and Griss will think they are only sleeping…in two dimensional shapes."
"How did they get out, anyway? Why didn't he keep them in a closed box?"
"It is a terrarium or tank, not a bowl or a box," she sniffled. "I…I wanted to surprise him. I thought if I cleaned some terrariums, I could show him how much I love him. Accept him completely. With his ugly babies and all. Did you know that he called them 'babies'?"
"Yes. I remember well," he said sadly, it had been mentioned when Ellie's case had been on the menu. "Gil said he fed these guys' parents or grannies with dog food. I remember he told proudly everyone in the Lab." This last bit of information formed new tears in Sara's eyes. Now the fear in her glances was palpable.
"Gimme that shoe. I have to rub them off of its sole."
She placed the remains of the poor insects onto a sheet of paper and both Sara and Brass were just staring at their lifeless bodies.
"Hey, Jim!" called Grissom from behind them. "Nice to see you."
"I doubt you would think it nice if you see this," he thought.
"What is it you're holding, Honey?" he asked Sara as he caressed her arms gently.
"Promise me…promise me you won't be mad…too much."
"Mad? At you?" he laughed lightly. "How could I be?"
"You will. I…I accidentally archived your roaches. I'm so very sorry."
"What roaches, Dearest? There are no bugs in the house, and the ones I have, they are safe in the horror-room as you call it."
"Were."
"What are you talking about?" he simply could not get it or believe what he had just heard. He looked at Sara's guilt covered face, and then at Brass' direction. He showed the same remorse as the young woman in front of him.
"You…Sara, you let my babies out?" his voice was neither harsh nor loud and that made the whole situation more serious. He looked like a volcano before eruption.
"It was an accident…and…" but she was interrupted by her lover.
"Why did you have to do that? What have I done?"
"No, please!"
"You always owed them a grudge, I know. But this is too much, don't you think?"
Sara's tears suddenly stopped, "What are you talking about?"
"I thought we talked through it long ago, but you…"
"What?" her guilt transformed into confusion. There was still fear but in different places. Fear only attached itself to fertile ground where it could flourish. And Sara Sidle was a perfect land. Her only weapon against fear was facing it.
"When I let Warrick supervise the team that night when I was out of town to race the babies. You said you understood."
"You can't be serious!" she answered defeated. "How could you think so little of me," she grieved.
"Here is the evidence, and it never lies," he pressed the word 'lies'. "This is…this is a mass homicide!"
"No, this is a sheer stupidity, Gil!" Brass let his voice for the first time be heard.
"No, no it's okay, Jim," Sara said, hurt was evident in her voice. She stood there like a dog that was soaking in the rain for hours.
"No, it is not okay, Sara!" Grissom whispered and he was about to leave the kitchen.
"Okay, then it is not okay. You don't know what it was like to ignore the stares, the whispers, the unvoiced accusations. Cath didn't trust me, not even liked me, Warrick did everything in his newfound power to make my life miserable and treated me like crap, he punished me for something I had done because YOU had asked me to do for you, but the most painful thing was that YOU looked through me, lost the trust we had once had; you stopped loving me back then. But I talked through that night's observations with everybody and I forgave them. But it looks like it is YOU who can't forgive me whatever I have done. And now, you are telling me I took a revenge on these miserable animals? Griss, I love you but I am not one of your roaches, so don't treat me as if I was one of them. Oh, wait, you love THEM. I might be in the wrong place again. As always in my damned life."
The house was never this quiet. Sara packed her things she had intended to leave here for the night and left the house without another word. Grissom were sitting on a stool watching what Sara was doing but not really comprehending it. He couldn't believe what he had just done.
Brass on the other hand pulled out his cell and dialed Sara's number and when she answered, he immediately told her how sorry he was and that she should have told Grissom the whole story. Again, she said it was okay and promised him to give Grissom time to calm down, and then she hung up. Brass did not like the sound of it at all but he had some things to tell Grissom first.
"Leave me alone, Jim."
"I will but before I do that, I want to share some facts with your stubborn head. I will not tell you how to live your life or how to handle your relationship with Sara. You are an adult guy, Gil."
"I've just lost my friends," he interrupted Brass.
"Probably, today you lost more than just three bugs you call 'friends', buddy."
"Why? What else did she kill?" he regretted it the moment the words left his lips. Brass could see it, too.
"I won't call you an idiot because you're clever enough to know it. Nothing new there. But you have to know that Sara was cleaning one of those damn bed-pans so you can see how much she loves you and accepts you with all of your kinks. Then I arrived, she let me in but she forgot to close the lid of the container in which she had put those friends of yours. I saw them and thought they were ordinary invaders and knowing how much Sara is afraid of them, I ironed the poor things. I really am sorry for your loss. And here, I don't mean the smelly and hissing guys!"
"You think I lost her?"
"Was there a female among the males?"
"I'm talking about Sara."
"Oh, finally, you are thinking about the woman you said you love," Brass told him. He did not judge his old friend, he knew him better, he knew he had not intended to be cruel to Sara, no matter he had sounded just that.
"I have to see her," Grissom finally woke up.
"Yes, you do. But give her time to think first."
"I have to explain my actions," he argued.
"Can you?"
"Yes. That she will believe me or not…well, that's another matter."
Grissom tried to call Sara several times. She did not answer her cell phone, and his attempt to reach her at home also failed. After Brass had shared one more "secret" about Sara giving him enough time, his old fear marred his mind. Fear only attached itself to fertile ground where it could flourish. And Gil Grissom was a perfect land. His only weapon against fear was turning his back to it. He was mad at himself and was extremely ashamed. He believed that he had rational explanation why he had behaved that pathetically. But he feared that Sara had been tired by now of his excuses. Still, he had to try to fix his mistakes. The desperate man spent hours on the internet to come up with a proper and meaningful gift for his Sara. Just like the woman in question who also spent long minutes on the Net to see what options she had after this catastrophic afternoon. Although, she could not find anything useful, she was not about to give it up. She had to do this.
In the townhouse, after surfing the Google for long, Grissom found the only present that he wanted to give Sara. No plant this time, no impersonal jewel, no blatant dress but the perfect thing that would surely melt away the pain in her aching heart. At least this was he so desperately believed in. He made some calls, asked some favors of old connections and within a day, he had her precious gift in his car with him. Grissom tried not to break any rules but the desire of getting to Sara's apartment was too overwhelming. He hoped this gift would please her and would build an even stronger bond between them.
Grissom was grateful for the two days off that now offered him the opportunity to mend the damage he had caused. Finally, he was in the parking lot at Sara's apartment block. He stayed in the car for a few minutes to chill out and to slow his heart rate down a little. He looked up to her windows and saw light. He took it as a good sign, so he got out of the vehicle and went to face his fate named Sara Sidle.
He knocked twice and the door to this wonderful creature opened. He looked into her eyes and tentatively stepped into the tiny flat.
"Sara, I have been trying to call you for hours. Where have you been?"
"I was trying to fix the mess I created," she replied.
"You didn't do anything wrong. It was an accident, I can see that now. Hell, I could see that yesterday."
"I didn't mean to make you unhappy."
"You make me happy, Sara. I am an idiot. I guess it had to be the shock; still it can't be my excuse. And I want you to know how extremely sorry I am for what I said to you."
"Which part?"
"The whole thing was bullshit. You are the most innocent and forgiving person I have ever met. I was unfair and well…" his voice broke.
"I don't think it was about the roaches. Why did you snap at me?"
"I guess a good shrink could explain it better with sonorous terms, but I want to tell you how I felt yesterday instead."
Sara led him to the couch. Both sat down not really side by side but close enough. She listened to him intently drinking every word. She suspected what he wanted to tell her, she knew him even though he thought she was better off without knowing him. So he rarely opened up to her completely. They were honest with each other but being honest was not the same as being open to the other. And after this outburst he had produced earlier, he was determined to change this condition.
"Everybody thinks I am a robot, even Warrick told me so. I know he didn't mean it but somehow it depicts my whole life. You know that my mother was deaf; I had no problem with it. I didn't even think about it as a deviation. But although, we are humans, we are parts of nature. And without learning how to live or how to act normally, how to be normal, the species are incapable of living. And in our race, humans can stay alive but lack many abilities that could make their lives flawless or less difficult. God, I don't know what is normal. My life or the one that others live. That can't be. Where there are so many betrayals, so many cruelties but no morals that can't be normal. But everybody tells me that my word is an illusion that doesn't exist. But I'm here and I'm breathing. I always was alone. Even with others around me. Most of the times, I didn't understand why they did things. And then I learned that I might also show the signs of Asperger's Syndrome, a form of autism, and although mine is considerably milder than Aaron Pratt's. Pratt. Do you remember him? He worked for a local library. We investigated a death of a young woman locked in a cage-like thing. The point is that this information scared me even more. You know how people work. What they can't understand or you are different from them, they will kill you off. Figuratively, of course. But this helped my fixation with insects and probably my solitary lifestyle easier to understand."
"You are wonderful in your job and as a man in private life, as well."
"You see me that way, but most of the people don't. So I created a little world for myself where everything is predictable. At home, I am not alone, I have my bugs, and they listen to me. I know it sounds stupid. And I loved living alone with them. Or I thought I loved living that way. I had to love it, because no one seemed to enjoy my company. They told me I am boring or aberrant or both. But then I met you and everything seemed not enough. You were interested in me, in Gil Grissom. I thought you would be tired soon, but you stayed, and then, I thought you would be bored with me eventually. But you are just as stubborn as I am. Then I tried to protect my world from you while I want nothing more to have you in it. Paradox. And when I finally let myself be really happy with you, some parts of my former life disappeared. Then I saw the roaches dead and those were parts of my life, so I also died a little. And I thought it was you who killed them. I felt I have to choose between you and my old life. However, no doubt I would choose you, it still felt betrayal. I felt I let those guys down. I'm trying to change, Sara. I really do. Bugs do it so easily. I feel I spent all of my life in a pupa and I am afraid of hatching. But what I am trying to tell you is that I am truly and sincerely sorry for the pain I put you in."
"I love you more and more with every second, Gil Grissom!"
"Can you forgive me?"
"Can 'you' forgive me?"
"I was never mad at you, I was hurt maybe."
"I was never mad at you, I was hurt maybe."
"Okay," he smiled slipping closer to Sara intending to kiss her but she stopped him.
"Stay here, don't move!"
Even though, he got confused, he hoped they were okay. She ran into her bathroom and returned soon with a small box in her hands.
"Here," she gave him the box with six small holes in its side.
"What is it?"
"This is the reason you couldn't reach me until now," she was excited.
"How…how could you have them?"
"After I spent lifetime on the internet, I ended up in the local university and convinced two students that their pets are better off with me."
"And they just gave them to you?"
"No. They were cruel and mean. They were supposed to earn 10-10 credits for keeping them alive for a month. So I had to give them something in return."
"What was that?"
"I promised to write an essay for each guy, so they still have the opportunity for the credits."
"What will you write about?"
"Well, I haven't decided yet. But I want something special. I made some research but I wandered from the main topic and found something more incredible."
"Yes? Bugs?"
"Of course, not:"
"Then I guess something that kills them."
"Everything eats bugs, lover. Cats, dogs, even you, Mr. Grissom," she laughed at his expression.
"Okay, so what did you find that made you fall in love?"
"It's a bird. Golden Winkle. Have you heard about it?"
"No," he lied. He wanted to know what Sara thought about it.
Sara and Grissom spent twenty minutes on the internet to study the special bird. They studied the photos they found there and so much other pieces of information that were worth to know. The topic was very sobering. When Grissom sensed that the room was slowly filling with tension, he offered Sara a ride back to his house.
"I still can't believe that you did it for me, Sara."
"They are not the typical Madagascar Giant Hissing Roaches. But I can dub the hissing," she kissed him.
"I also have something for you, Dear."
"Yes?"
"Yes, in the car, let's go."
Sara ran towards the door but then waited for Grissom and his new babies to come. She was delighted. They walked or rather ran hand in hand to his car. She quickly sat in it but soon yelled in her surprise when a huge slobbery tongue washed her neck. She turned in her seat to see the monster. And yes, it was her undoing. A little hyperactive puppy. Grissom could not decide which one looked happier. The little boxer or Sara. She could not believe her own eyes. She had wanted a dog when she was a child and evidently, Grissom had remembered it.
"Oh my Lord, who are youuuuu?"
"His name is Hank. Not my choice."
The woman was no longer listening to Grissom. She climbed over her seat and hugged the young dog close to her.
And she started what her man feared, the really sucky pet talk, "Awww, little baby, cute faced sweetheart, momma's boy, oh, oo ja boo ba da boo boo do booo!"
"Excuse me for disturbing this academic discussion…"
"Is he really mine?"
"Yes. Do you like him?"
"Griss, I love him. Oh, I am a in a bigamous relationship. Is it normal?"
"Perfectly so."
"Why didn't you bring him up?"
"I wasn't sure if the door meets my face sooner than I could step back. And Hank's face already looks like of someone who kissed a wall with light speed. So he had to wait here."
The weather was still cool enough, so it had not been a problem for Hank to wait in the car for an hour. And the dog food all over the back seat indicated that he had been given food, too. The fluid was another matter. Water or pee, she could not tell.
"You are the sweetest guy in the world."
"Who are you talking to?"
After they had fed the dog, Grissom gently embraced her and she leaned in for a kiss. And for another and then another. They were kissing intensely when Hank started to bark then growl and then bark again. Something cracked between his teeth. Sara rushed for his rescue and Grissom rushed for his babies' rescue. He had placed the box onto the coffee table when they had arrived home. Big mistake.
"I can't believe it. Hank killed my babies!"
"I'm so sorry. He had to be scared. I think it is a natural reaction to new impulses."
"Well, years ago, my original ones had decided not to win more races, their kids were attacked by a stocky detective and now, these boys died a violent death by a dog. I'm done with cockroaches," he could not do anything but laugh at his bad luck.
Although, Hank was supposed to be Sara's dog, he was rather Grissom's pet than hers. It was Hank's decision. But until Sara had Grissom is her life, she had Hank, as well. And until Grissom had Sara in his life, he could stay alive.
Hank loved sleeping in his masters' bed. He loved feeling them close. When he had woken up and wanted something to chew on, he had just had to whine a little and Sara had jumped. But this time the whine was louder and longer. Grissom half asleep, half woken reached for Sara. But her place was cold and empty. He slowly opened his eyes to see where she was. But blue pair of eyes only met with huge, sad brown ones that did not belong to Sara. His foggy brain gradually cleared up. He had no Sara in his bed; he had no Sara in his life anymore. He was not alive anymore. He looked at his dog that had grown up by now. Was it empathy in his eyes?
I wake up in a cold sweat under the blanket hearing Kaye's screams, you can tell me it's nothing. It's just empathy.
Grissom had woken up many times before to Sara's screams and now to Hank's screams. He had felt helpless earlier and he felt useless now. He had not been able to help Sara and it seemed he could not help this dog, either. Maybe it was his own scream that scared the dog. He wished he had gone with Sara when she had asked him. But he had not known what to do.
You know, by the time you figure it out, you really could be too late.
He was haunted by memories. Every move of him woke a memory. He was afraid that he would go crazy. He tried to stay alive by feeding upon memories; he kept saying to himself that they were still okay.
If a relationship can't move forward, it withers.
"Nooo," he screamed scaring the lonely dog even more. Hank jumped from the bed immediately and went to find asylum in his own bed.
No longer could he stand his thoughts and the flashes of memories, their memories, he got out of the bed and went to the bathroom. He wanted to walk Hank but the rain poured as if all gods in heaven cried for a lost soul. And finally a call came in. Finally he could leave this crypt that their home had become after Sara's departure.
He jumped into his SUV and drove towards the crime scene. Logic and science were his only friends again. But if that was the case, then why was he so lonely? He had to understand why all of this had happened.
It's from the "Big Chill". One of the characters explaining a basic fact of life - that rationalizations are more important to us than sex even.
And he was doing it again. He had visited Sara years ago when she had been suspended by Ecklie with Catherine's help, and he had been saying stupid things to her instead of real comfort. And now, he tried to do the same to himself. Words and excuses without real actions.
The case provided him an escape from his hell and he soon was lying in Heather's guest bed. He felt like a brain-dead. No, his brain functioned just fine, too well even. The problem was he was not able to shut it down. He was a soul-dead zombie. He was no longer a man, he was no longer a lover, and he was no more than 200 lbs flesh and bones.
He was cold and scared. He was like a kitten that was forgotten in the rain. He was wondering if the weather had something to do with his mood. But he knew better. A certain video message killed the last iota of life in him.
He sensed Heather's eyes on him. He knew she did not know what to say or do. He did not need advice. She was stunned to witness how despairing, terrified and lost this strong man had become.
"Heather, would you stay?"
Without a word, she went to sit next to his bed. He never looked this old and tired.
"Have you heard about Golden Winkle?"
She shook her head.
"Have you?" he needed to hear human voices.
"No," she answered.
"There is a wonderful bird somewhere in the depth of the rainforest in South America. The hen is much larger and much more ornate than the cock. It is weird because it is not how usually it happens. The hen is so beautiful, so noble, you would love it."
Since when are you interested in beauty?
At this memory, he closed his eyes and continued his tale about those fairy birds. "It is said that they choose mates for ever. Can you believe this? And if one of them dies, the other follows it very soon. They are looking for each other until they find their real mates. And once they found each other, they stay faithful. They build a nest together. But for some reason, the cock wounds the hen from time to time. The scientists can't explain this behavior. The point is they stay together, no matter what. But once it happened that a young photographer saw that the hen was bleeding in a nest. He took her into his jacket and drove her to the research center. He thought he did everything he could…just to make her happy. She was so exceptional. She seemed happy but later it turned out she had been dying inside."
Anyway, what I'm trying to say is, you don't have to worry about me anymore. I'm good. I'm really good and honestly, I think it's better this way
"The hen died in a few days. She was perfectly healthy, still, she died. The young man was bringing its body out to bury when he noticed the male sitting on one of the branches of a tree that stood proudly close to the window where the hen had been held behind. He then caught the poor bird but he followed his mate days later. He refused to eat, he didn't want to drink. The grief of Golden Winkle."
You know, by the time you figure it out, you really could be too late.
Heather did not know when this broken man fell asleep. Here and there he uttered a word. Most of them were incomprehensible to her. She waited about an hour, then stood up and very lightly caressed his face, "Good luck, Golden Winkle."
The next few days were a blur to him. He went back to the Lab; the team closed the case, if it could be called closed. The traces went cold. So did the case. He was an outsider in his own Lab. No one asked a question. Not with words anyway.
You don't know what it was like to ignore the stares, the whispers, the unvoiced accusations.
Sara's words echoed in his head, "Yes, Dear, I know now."
He could imagine what his colleagues could possibly be thinking. He did once again; he spent the night at Heather's. Of course, no one had the guts to say something or ask him about it. But what could he expect? In this twisted, sick world where it was easier to just assume that he had jumped into another woman's bed once Sara had left. It was more entertaining than to ask a question and risk an honest answer and spoil their day if the answer would be different from what they had expected.
In this sin-infected world where the abnormal was welcomed as normal and being faithful to the same woman was considered as unimaginable deviance, he felt outsider. So whose world is real? "Maybe yours is real but mine is livable," he thought.
I've been waiting for you to decide but sometimes not making a decision is making a decision.
And his decision finally was made. And within three months, he was walking through the corridor of the Lab, glancing left and then right, silently he bid farewell to his now ex-colleagues. He was sitting long enough just to watch his mate dying inside. He was going to find his Golden Winkle.
Two weeks later, he was marching through the rainforest. He was very nervous. The evil "what-ifs" were nagging him constantly. What if she no longer loved him?
You know I love you. I feel I've loved you forever…Our life together was the only home I've ever had. I wouldn't trade it for anything. I love you. I always will.
At the little opening, he finally caught the sight of his love. His shirt was soaking in sweat, his heart in excitement, and his head in thoughts.
She was taking photos of a cheeky monkey. It just could not stay still for a minute. Her "wounds" seemed healed nicely but her moves lacked something. Life. He almost forgot how beautiful she was. But could he ever forget?
Sensing that someone was watching her, she turned and her heart skipped a beat or two. Both approached the other, two pairs of legs moved with unison. Two hearts were heavy with pain and longing. He opened his arms and Sara went willingly. Neither spoke a word. They kissed each other and hugged each other so tightly, they could hardly breathe.
"Have you ever seen a Golden Winkle?" he whispered into Sara's ear.
Pulling back a little, "I'm seeing one in front of me."
.
THE END