NOTE: (can't get Author's intro to work so I'll but it here for now)
**This is part of a much longer novella I've written. I think it stands so well on it's own I've edited it out. Hopefully you'll find in large part it doesn't need the backstory. Also it gives an example of a less dense work to balance out the other story I posted.**

One day the rain didn't stop. The old metal swings danced with the patter of water drops. They hid under a tree against its warm, coarse bark. Sitting close, interlocked, did little to keep out the cold but it didn't matter. Not then. Nothing mattered except those two. Laughing, holding; little mattered.

And then they kissed.

And his life became more, if just for a second.

This exchange would make all those damaged days ahead seem less detrimental. It was surely a soothing remembrance. He'd imagine later that every raindrop that drained off their bodies was all the sorrow he ever experienced. And that made him happy. That made him smile through the nightmares of his pillows. Because for that one night the drops drained so smooth off their skin, like nothing could touch them. Even though the hurt pounded from the heavens it would not soak in. Every tear, every anguish was destined for the dirt where it would drain away.

And she kissed him. God, her lips were sweet.

The crack of thunder became their passion. Though their hands wandered it was never more than a kiss. That was all that was required. That was all that was needed. That was every newscast he watched her in. That was every dream he ever chased her in. That was every moment he ever wished them together in.

It was just a kiss. It was more than a kiss. This is what men have lived and died for; to feel like this once. And he endured every repercussion for it. It was worth it. Every anxious fit, every worry, and every nervous jitter that followed he calmed with the remembrance of that one instance.

Even if they, as a union together, deteriorated into only a memory she was worth it. She was worth hollowing himself out. She was worth the fallout aftermath.

Because of this, lying in bed with the her who is not she left only abrasions not fractures. In this battered state, with conversations rapping in the silence of rest, he'd explore a discourse with his father. They'd be sitting on their old deck. His father would have a beer and they'd be sharing a cigarette.

"Boy, summarize your life, ya know, for your old man. They say we live through our children." Father.

There'd be a pause here before he slowly speaks. "One time I kissed a girl." Son.

His father would wait until he was sure the story had ended. "That it?" Father.

"If you were there you wouldn't say that. If you were me you'd think differently." Son.

His father would mull it over while sweet early falling leaves kick around the lawn. "If it's true, that we really live through our children and all I mean, then I guess I've led a pretty good life."

They'd go back to staring through the sun at the green, green apple tree and the fantasy that closely resembled memory would fall as a raindrop onto her lips.

And she kissed him.

She kissed him.

It was just a kiss.

It was more than a kiss.

It was everything.