“The garden of love is green without limit and yields many fruits other than sorrow or joy.”
Quinn brought him to a cave next to a garden beside a large pool of water. She dropped Voltaire into the pool. He floated under the water so that Quinn could see his form, outlined by the water, before he surfaced.
“Quinn will be back soon,” Quinn said. “Quinn has to change back. Stay here and the radioactive particles will not kill you.”
The sand flew out into the desert. Voltaire swam to Quinn’s desert garden and lay down in the grass to sleep. When he woke up, he heard the sound of feet on sand.
“Quinn.” Voltaire wished he could see her, so he reached for her blindly. Quinn knelt by him and bought his hands to her face. His hands traced her eyes and then the cheekbones of her skeletal face that had been horribly burned by the desert sun. Flakes of skin peeled off her face from the gentlest touch. Voltaire realized that she was not getting enough to eat in the middle of the desert.
“Come in,” Quinn said.
“Of course,” Voltaire said “by the way, I admire how you cultivated your garden.”
The two of them stood up, still touching each other in case the other disappeared. Voltaire was weak from flying so he leaned on Quinn slightly as she guided him towards her home. As they walked, Voltaire noticed that Quinn had a slight limp. Quinn led Voltaire into the cave where she lived.
They sat on Quinn’s bed because it was the only place to sit. Both of them were silent. They wanted to talk, but did not know what to say. They did not want to let go of each other because they thought the other would disappear into the sand or the air.
“What do you think of the desert plants?” Quinn asked, pulling away. She refused to let herself hope even as she was desperate to keep Voltaire’s attention.
“I cannot see them,” Voltaire said. “And we flew here so… I didn’t touch them.”
Quinn crawled over to a hole in the floor and pulled out some food she was storing underground. She walked over to Voltaire, holding out some food. She gave a desert amaranth to him. Voltaire boldly accepted the amaranth and bit into the green shoot.
“Quinn has a garden to grow her own food, but she misses meat and fruit. She lives on date palms, desert amaranth, prickly pears, grasses, and the cattails that grow by Quinn’s spring that is outside of her cave. The cattails are her favorite; that’s partly why Quinn decided to live here. The main reason was the drinkable water.”
“The dates are good,” Voltaire said sampling the vegetation. “How would you like to try different foods? I can bring you a big carton of food next time I come here. I think I’ll bring you apples first.”
“You are coming back?” Quinn’s voice sounded almost breathless.
“Yes,” Voltaire said.
Disclaimer: This is an original story that is not based on any real people or events. It is a work of fiction that is purely for your entertainment.