Adone didn’t see her for a few weeks and life went on.

Unchanged and defined by his taste and desires.

No anger in his mind, no missing void.

Sometimes he smelled the lingering perfume of her hair, French lavender in a summer twilight.

As time passed her eyes were dark and watchful in the fatigued mirror.

Heavy nightcaps did nothing to banish her out from the surface or from the sheets on his bed while deep in dream.

Every morning, every button fastened and wrinkle pressed away, he was the same.

Commanding his empire of pawns with gentle pushes onward and shoving weaklings down in six feet of mud.

He could be cruel just like her and take pleasure in it.

One day the flaming sword would fall on her dark head and he’ll have the she-daemon unclawed at last.

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