“Why are you sorry?” Malaika asked.

“Well,” she started in a tone that suggested what was going to be said was rather obvious, “I have made a girl cry.”

“What girl?” She sounded choked and Hanwi was dancing even more. Surely, she reasoned, it could not be her. She never did silly little things like crying during or after shags. She was a traumatised lady who hid emotions like the well-adjusted firstborn daughter she was.

She was not sure but she assumed the colour taking over Hanwi’s features was that of concern. This, as you can imagine, was not something that partnered well with pussy scented air. “Definitely not you. But say were it you, how’d you go about addressing it?”

Having given up sometime between then and now, she wiped the traitorous things off her face and fought to sit up. The pain was delicious. This then meant more unforgiving water escaped her. She hoped Hanwi could read the dare in her implied positioning. She was relieved when it was clear that she did and said nothing as she continued crying.

“Menopause,” she said finally as she wiped the last of her weakness away. “When not in hot flashes, I suppose,” she shrugged, “I do the thing.”

“Understandable,” Hanwi said in a tone that suggested she quite understood the suffering of menopause.

“Went through it?” Malaika asked. Her voice was a bit scrachy and her nose was so wet she kept on sniffing.

“Here,” Haniw said, offering her a white handkerchief. “And to answer your question, no. I have, however, seen people around me experience it so I have credible secondary accounts.”

Malaika took the handkerchief. It was soft and when she put it to her nose, it smelled so much of wildflowers. She liked the scent so much she was not willing to soil the handkerchief with mucus. “Are you ever going to experience it?” She studied the handkerchief. She noticed an anagram at the corner of it. A small profile of a wolf. It was beautiful.

“No.”

She looked up. With each passing minute, Hanwi became even more beautiful. She wondered when she was going to get used to her features. Get used to those gloriously ethereal eyes. Those marvellous locks. “Have you ever cut your hair?”

Hanwi cocked her head to the side. “Only trimmed it.”

“It’s stunning.” She sniffed.

They went quiet. In the quiet, the crickets sang in praise of the night and the river joined in with small melodies. If it could, Malaika was sure the moon would have joined the orchestra to make the night even more magical than it had been. “I know I said it’s menopause but honestly, I think I am just overwhelmed and I don’t know what to do with myself. I didn't mean to ruin what we had going. It just kind of happened.”

“Understandable. I am fighting back my tears right now.”

Malaika couldn’t help the laugh that escaped her. “Really? Because I would appreciate it very much if you were to start crying right now. Save me some face?”

Hanwi clicked her tongue, looking away from her. “I don’t know,” she said gravely. “I don’t like sharing the spotlight when I’m crying.”

Malaika tried to reach out and swat at her shoulder. She missed terribly. “Makes sense. You cannot be this insanely hot and chivalrous all at once.”

Hanwi turned to face her, eyes wide and fascinated like those of a child. “You think I’m hot? Insanely hot?”

Malaika felt a bit sheepish. “No one’s ever told you you're hot?”

“No one that matters.”

Her heart jumped as the tips of her ears flamed. She was feeling more and more embarrassed. “Is that the pick-up line you use on every girl you meet who happens to live along the river bed with a questionable love for shifter romances?” she asked, her nose pointed up as she narrowed her lips.

“Malaika.” The way she said her name was sin and salvation. She said it like one who fully grasped that her name did indeed mean angel and she was granting it the highest of respects. It was as though she had prostrated herself before the very essence of the name and planned on staying that way until the end of times. “I don’t do pick-up lines. I simply say what is and what isn’t. What is at this very moment is the most gorgeous woman I have ever seen blessing me with her intimate space and trusting me enough to not chase me out yet. I see a woman who shines so bright even the night cannot touch her. I see so much I cannot say because I fear you’ll kick me out if not locking me into a room and calling the police.” She reached out her hands towards Malaika’s, touching them like they were made of porcelain. She looked her deep in the eyes and said, “For the record, if you lock me in a room, I would fight not to be removed from it because I’ll love that the only thing that would separate us is a door.”

Malaika could not help the small gasp that escaped her. “Lines still?” She asked but in a tone that suggested she enjoyed them more than she admonished the very nature of them.

Hanwi gave her a wide smile. “I still insist that I do not use lines. Truthfully, I don’t know how to use them.”

Malaika smiled back. “That’s well and good - having a serious conversation with my tits out in full glory.” She did not miss how Hanwi’s eyes darted to them for just a millisecond before she looked away. She smiled wider still. “I saw that!”

“I am simply a woman at the end of the day!” She defended herself, fighting the obvious smile.

“Do you want to stay the night?” Malaika asked. “I mean, you might be a serial killer but I’m in too deep now.”

“I’m much worse than a serial killer,” Hanwi assured her softly.

Malaika shook her head. “Don’t take that tone when you're saying something so concerning.”

Hanwi smiled as she made herself comfortable. Her eyes promised a long night.