Tell me, she'd say. I wasted no time. I spit it out, like it was a natural thing. Maybe it was. But strange, too. I'd a vague sensation of having said it before. To her? Well, if not, then to someone else. Probably to many.

Miraculously, for a moment, everything was good again. She seemed pleased I'd say it, just the way she wanted to hear it.

Say it again, she'd say. Oh boy, I thought. But I'd do it. Say it. Hope it would be right. Could bring us all a little share of happiness.

Which is how I'd like it to be, all said. Why I'm here now, in fact. Like this, watching for her. If she comes, she'll ask. Like I've always imagined. I'll say it, then. Be done with it.

For now, though, I'm still waiting, hoping she'll be here. Praying I remember the words. They're on the tip of my tongue. They're ready to fly...