We met in the darkest place on the darkest night. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest as his hand reached out across the void; and we touched.

"The night is beautiful," he said.

"But you cannot see it," said I.

"Maybe you cannot see it; maybe your eyes are not as perceptive yet." His hand left mine. I felt the cool of the night replace it. After a moment of wandering through air it found my face. His fingers upon my cheek, he said,

"Your cheek is beautiful in the night."

And his fingertips were beautiful in the night.

The night between us was warm.

"And what of your dreams?" he asked.

"And what of them?" asked I.

"I am not in them. And I never shall be."

"There is day and there are dreams and there is night," said I.

"And never at once..." we murmured.

"I like you without your makeup," he said.

"I have never worn makeup," said I.

And he laughed. There was much he thought I did not know.

But I knew. He was him and I was sometimes me.

And in the dark we kissed, with lips as black as coal. I did not close my eyes; but I will never know if he did.