His Smile of Sorrow by Elina Haloian

She leaned her head against his shoulder

whilst paying close attention to what he was saying. He was talking about the evergreen, huge mountains he had walked around a thousand times since he was little, about sweltering summer days spent in his vineyards, and about the clear blue sky above his head. He reminded her about the way birds were singing there, far away from the calm place they were sitting now. Every single morning at 5 a.m. There were these birds that told him about her.

"Do you remember the backyard at my home?”, he asked her while opening a pomegranate.

"We never made it to the backyard", she said.

"Oh, come on, dear! You’ve been there a thousand times. Do you remember the apricot trees there? None are finer in the whole world.”

She smiled back at him. The wound appeared to still hurt, as it did three years ago.

Her smile was the only response she would give him in those kinds of conversations.

"Your blood is the colour of pomegranate," he said.

"Yeah, they say. A reward and agony."

"What is reward compared to agony? A reward is what people invented to camouflage their lives of torture. The hidden is obtainable to you and has always been. You are higher than those on the ground."

"Let them take my wings and take me home."

He smiled at her. Although "Everything will be alright" was in his smile of sorrow, she could see the reflection of the all-too-familiar clear blue sky in his eyes.