The word...
Slipping through the silver strands of moonlight, his form was as dark as the deepest woodland shadows. A practiced, silent, tread carried him slowly towards his destination. Through the gaps in the thick underbrush, his blue-gray eyes could occasionally catch glimpses of the brightly-lit structure that waited at the top of the hill. Clouds, as silent in their passage as he had been in his, covered the full moon. The spreading gloom suits both his mood and his purpose.
It had been months since she had been this relaxed, refreshed, alive. For once, the lingering pain and humiliation of her divorce seemed to have drained away with the warm waters of her bath. Perhaps it was the wine; or perhaps it was a true healing – no matter its cause, a long sought after calm had settled over her this evening. Catching a glimpse of herself in the full-length mirror of her dressing room – she paused. Her skin glowed with the soft pink vibrancy of a rose petal. The years had been kind to her, she knew, a subtle repayment for the awkwardness of her youth. There she stood, in the glass, the fullness of her form complimented by its youthful firmness. Lingering a moment longer – she allows herself the indulgence of the touch of her small, soft, hands. Cupping the weight of her breasts; she knows – for the first time in a long time – she is ready to move forward with her life.