The Caffeinated Lifestyle
7. Aftertaste
When they stopped to bivouack in the mountains, Maladicta took the iconograph out of her pack and examined it again by the light of the campfire.
It was black-and-white. The colour experiment had turned out terrible, but Otto had kept it nevertheless.
"Who's that?" asked Polly from the other side of the campfire.
"Me," said Maladicta, and put it away.
It was meant to end. They had each their own callings: she followed the war, he followed the news. And they might meet again, when war made news, but then?
She'd have liked to hear him laugh again.
As the camp went to bed around her, she nursed a cup of strong coffee and watched the moon ride high in the sky. She shut her eyes and tried to remember feelings, sense of touch, but all she could pick up was the bittersweet aftertaste.