For your reading pleasure, Tempest presents yet another exquisite example of romantic narrative…

Looming Sunrises, Feline Seasons
by Edwin-Aloysius Schwarzkopf, USN

   No; Ulysses — she who had always seemed so cold! — was not pleased. Not at all! Neither the rhythmic strumming of Gwynne’s guitar nor the room where River had witnessed the apparition impressed her, and it was all because he wasn’t there. Intellectually, she realized that the Chief’s handsome son, the passionate brilliant scholar who had wanted to make her his life’s work, had a full life in which he was recklessly endangering her life as well as his own, and he could not be expected to hold any consideration for the pleasure of one godless girl. Intellectually, she knew this. And yet…
   Truly, it had been a most foreign day when his scheming partner, Elton had brought him to her attention.
   Suddenly, an abrupt fanfare from the long-silent trumpets shattered her composure into a million savage, sleazy pieces! She whirled around. Surely it could not be — but it was! At the door, the ultramarine and masculine face she had come to know so well! “Without you I am nothing,” he rumbled while he went down on his knees and implored her to forgive him. “I need you, my dewy, doll-faced delight!”
   Just then, as the music in her heart rose to a new crescendo of happiness, she knew that life without him was unthinkable, if not tawdry. Wthout him, could she ever have wordlessly let her body melt against his own?

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