The village was quiet, any remaining voices reduced to a soft lull as the sun set over the vast multicolor hills on the horizon. The cobblestone streets were washed in orange-gold light, tall shacks casting shadows into the alleys between houses. It was a beautiful day, the closest to a clear sky in weeks. I couldn’t fault the weather, the wet season will happen whether anyone likes it or not. And the clouds were stark white—soft looking, like sugar—so I couldn’t complain about that either.
And what I really couldn’t complain about was being with Romeo. I was lucky to have him here for the day—the whole day—usually I’m lucky to see that man for a couple of hours, at best, with how busy he is. But I wouldn’t think about that, not when we’re sitting together under the warm sun on a soft blanket, watching it set.