When Cousin came to she was resting on Kraken’s bunk. The ship was dark. No lights other than the reflection of moon on water illuminated the cave. Kraken stood at the windows, his form silhouetted by the shifting light.
Cousin sat up, and looked at him. “I remember my name,” she said to the silhouette.
“Good,” came the quiet response.
“I like Cousin better.”
Kraken turned around, and moved to sit on his desk. “Do you feel something out there?”
Cousin sat a moment. “No. They have moved on.”
“Good.”
Cousin sat trying to decide what to do, what to say.
“Gabb said you asked about emotion. About love.”
“Yes. I don’t really understand. Gabb tried to explain that there are different kinds.”
“Do you love Gabb?”
Cousin smiled. This she understood. “Not the way I love you.”
Kraken was across the floor and kissing Cousin. His mouth was soft on hers. He put no force, no demand, in his kiss. When he broke the contact, he gulped a big breath like coming up for air.
Cousin touched her lips with her finger tips. She felt her breath in long sighs.
“I’m sorry,” Kraken said. “I shouldn’t have . . . I didn’t mean . . .”
Cousin put her thumb over his mouth. She caressed his jaw with her fingers, the stubble bristly against her skin. She met Kraken’s eyes. They were bright and conflicted in the near dark. “I remember,” she whispered.
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