Editing Epiphany

An excerpt from ''Peripatetica'', by M. K. Sebastien, Engr. ret.<br><br><br>

'''Monday, 17 Jun 2520'''<br>
'''Mike’s Cabin'''<br>
'''Fristonweald Range, Salisbury'''<br>
'''Kalidasa (Xuan Wu) system'''<br>
'''12:37 hrs, local time'''<br><br>


&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;It was half past noon, the air warm and gentle, and Mike was grooming the horses. He had about a dozen of them in the pasture and he moved methodically from one horse to the next, brushing them down and making them shine.  I leaned on the fence rail and watched him as he worked, admiring his masculine grace as the brush sent the dust wafting upward.  The breeze sent snippets of speech my way as he talked and gave the horses a pat or a scratch, receiving nudges in return.  The sun shone, the horses grazed, the birds sang…and in that moment I saw Mike not as the man I’d known and loved for a decade, but as a stranger I’d never met and as I stood frozen at the rail, I finally understood.<br>
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Mike was happy.<br>
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;With the dirt under his feet, the sun on his face and the wind in his hair, he’d found peace.  With honest work for his hands, he’d found purpose.  And even though he wore a sniper rifle across his back and had become hair-triggered from constant vigilance against attack, he was content.  His clandestine career was over. He’d been burned and there was no going back. <br> 
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;All that remained was the fallout…and me.<br>
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;I pushed off the rail and made for the cabin.  The grass was soft and cushioned the way to his door and the air was cool when I went inside.  I sat on his bed, pulled his pillow to my chest and breathed in his scent, and sank my face in it so I could think.<br>
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;The Feds knew where Mike was.  Indigo was proof of that.  Where there was one bounty hunter, there would be others and staying on Salisbury was no longer an option.  Mike would have to leave.  He’d find another world, with another sun and other birds to sing.  He’d build another homestead and raise another herd and start over fresh.  He’d find a place the Alliance wouldn’t go, the only place he and others like him had left.<br> 
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Miranda.<br>
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;He wanted me with him and this time I’d say yes, but both of us had unfinished business and no guarantee of success.<br>
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;The splash of water from the pump drifted in from the open door and a moment later, Mike strode through it. The epiphany that had stuck me in the pasture still had me in its grip and when I raised my eyes I saw only a man with a rifle coming in from work, dripping from a hasty wash-up and smelling faintly of horse.  Even his voice sounded different and his words empty of double meaning when he spoke, and I struggled to get my head around what my heart already knew. <br>
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Mike was Mike, no more, no less.  Why was it so hard for me to accept?<br>
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“You okay?” he asked and I didn’t know what to say.




<span style="color:#800000">''' ''(A single observation from Terri saved this piece from the trash can and I am very grateful it did.  Thanks, Terri!--Maer)'' '''</span>


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