'Write & I...'

"You spent it beside the sea..."
"Can't say as I remember..." She responded, with time. It seemed she was delving as far back as last week, and yet the deep of her eyes forever remained. Not once since arriving had she looked to him when speaking, yes, her eyes had turned upon him if he mentioned any thing of a romantic nature, and any thing of home, but it was only these glances which he had been given. She was 'away', as ever she had been all the years before.
"The scent of the sea would creep through our window each of the mornings", he tried, "The evenings would shimmer against a black ocean, the sands would turn unnoticed and laughter could be heard upon the pier from our garden. It was quite a beautiful time."
"But I cannot smell the sea, not now", she offered, gently, folding her hair behind her ear, of which half of the strands immediately escaped back to the pale of her face.
His hands clasped dryly together, he studied her for a few quiet minutes. Glasses touched in the building, the simmer of quiet conversation around them faded in and out, the occasional rush of a car passing by below audible now and then. A woman laughed quite heartily for a few seconds, and this event was the only thing that seemed to stir the girl sat before him. She had returned to a shell from which he had once extracted her long before.
"There was lightening one of the nights", he almost sighed. "It shook even the oldest of the coastal buildings when the thunder arrived, you had noticed it coming long before I, almost as though you had sensed it's damp in the air. We never heard of any disturbance on the news, in fact, we never really watched the news. We just watched as it rocked the ocean, the poor ocean that had been delving sweetly into the evening horizon. The boats clambered about upon the waves, the gulls took from their perches and disapeared into the coming rain.
You and I, we remained as others walked to the dry, walked from the noise. I remember... the cool of the salty air, the damp at our feet and clash of the rain at our inappropriate shoes..."
"We never spoke", came her voice into his trail. He looked to her, and found that the browns of her eyes were settled upon his cupped hands.
"We rarely did", he responded.
It did not pass between them verbally, it was not heard by others eating nearby, nor did the cars passing below ever know they were up in that window together; They had both known then in that moment, that the sea never spoke, that the sea never cared for their sitting beside it and whistling to the bay, it never felt as she had dipped her feet into the salt every so often.
It had only been them, and because she had left her memories on the shore and never looked back, they were no more, and never to be seen in her mind's eye again.
His hands dropped one another, and with this motion, left in that resturant the hope that she may ever see what their eyes had once seen together. Like a worn book left to the sun, she had faded. Like the rose, she had wilted before him, parts of her gliding to the sand. He had never known more of a love, and she, she had never remembered a day passed.
"It is as though you do not have a face, not in my mind", the easy cool of her voice let, finally sounding as she had once before, if just more careful, "I have not forgotten the words, my dear, they have settled like a white feather on the water. They have lined my heart, bled my veins, that clatter of letters. I see nothing, but I read it all. My mind is only pages, not a camera. I've only the feather, not the shutter, and in word I may still love, as inhuman as it may seem. And I have never before known the love I do!".
The image of her rolled before him, her mouth did speak and sound did once rumble the silhouette of heads about the resturant around them, the lights passing below did ignite her complexion now and then, her eyes did still shine in his mind's eye.
But he never wrote it down.