She ran into the wood, laughing. The sound echoed small, tinkling bells, golden with life. Enchanted, he followed, pushing away branches and boughs that never seemed to touch the woman. They made way for her; she floated through them, the hem of her soft yellow dress trailing her back like the foam of a matte gold waterfall.
"Let us disappear and just be our names," she said, looking back at him, her eyes bright with sunlight.
There was a soundless clap--she turned into a butterfly. The man was overcome with lightness and joy. He had, at last, become his name.
13 June 2017
UP Diliman
The Trees at twilight
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