"Amen," I echoed, wiping the last of my tears from my eyes. I raised my head, and was struck as if by lightning to see that his eyes bore the weary, red tint of one who had also wept at the mighty rushing force of what had transpired inside the single soul we had seemed to share in that moment.

And once again, our souls fused as my lips brushed his cheek, lingering for a moment to breathe in the soft scent- somewhere between vanilla and an October bonfire- that would forever imprint itself in my memory as the dividing line between two chapters of my life.

Actually, in retrospect, that moment did not really set asunder two chapters of my life. Of my existence, yes. But in the story of my life--the presence of a viable, breathing soul within me-- that moment distinguished the prologue from chapter one.