Eyes meet at the full compass of our scanning. She is tired, skin pale as moonlight, nose frozen when she presses against my cheek.
“Weary?” I ask.
“Unto death.”
A grim joke. This night, not more than a year after learning again to love her, if I find the courage I will help her die. Like great birds, herons or swans, we have come north and westward in a wide orbit seeking the twilight doctor.