The woman sits there beside the man, her pale blue eyes fixated upon the single strawberry, her pale skin illuminated by the warm fire that devoured the wood that kept it alive. She watched quietly a forlorn look upon her face as she closed her eyes, a deep, sharp pain pulsed from within her being, heart heavy she leaned back listening to the three words spoken by The Jackalope.
Leaning forward again she lets out a sigh, the silhouettes of the two pirouette across the walls.
“ Ask not the sun why she sets. “