Eleanor Wiggins and Sam Fowler sat admiring the glorious harbor vista in front of them, like they had done every Tuesday afternoon between the hours of three and four for the last nine years. That was, you need to understand, the only time they got to spend with each other, and they preferred to share it right there at the very spot upon which they fatefully met all those years previously.

It had been an innocent encounter. Neither of them had been looking for a romantic encounter, some might call it serendipity, others a fluke. Still others might dismiss it as foolishness. Sam had been sitting on the bench engaged in Edgar Allen Poe's Telltale Heart, and as Poe was Eleanor's favorite author, she felt compelled to talk to him. As soon as they gazed into each other's eyes, they both realized that it was love at first sight.

"I wish we could board one of those boats and sail off together to live happily ever after� Just the two of us," Sam whispered into Eleanor's eager ear.

Eleanor sighed, a deep longing heavy sigh.

"We have gone over this a hundred times, darling," she replied. "We can never be together all the time. You could never possibly leave Margaret, and I have not the strength to leave Desmond. The resulting scandal and financial hardship would be more than we could ever cope with. This is an old fashioned town, with even more old fashioned values. It would destroy your career."

It was then it happened: a sudden gust of wind. They both saw it at once, a black witch's hat floating in the air.

"What a peculiar thing, Sam," Eleanor said, almost mesmerized by the peculiar object as it landed directly at their feet.

Almost without thinking, Sam reached over and picked it up.

"We could use a bit of old fashioned magic, Elly," Sam whispered as he winked flirtatiously at the woman he so passionately loved. "Perhaps this is some sort of a sign, maybe even divine intervention. We are after all both complete cowards, afraid to follow our hearts for the sake of hurting others, afraid to do what we both yearn for. Damn it Elly! We love each other, yet the only happiness we have in our dull, miserable, pointless lives is this one, all too fleeting time together each week."

Sam smirked and then placed the peculiar black hat upon his head, and instantly felt empowered. Eleanor couldn't help but giggle at how foolish it made him appear.

"Kiss me, my darling Elly," Sam ordered, "and allow that magical kiss to cement our love, and let us be together for always, damn the consequences."

With that, they cocked their heads in an accustomed, well rehearsed manner that only lovers who know each other with such familiarity do, and their lips met...

Over the following days none of the amazed townsfolk could explain where the remarkable, lifelike statue of the two people embraced in a kiss came from, yet all that saw it could not deny how happy and evidently in love the two figures seemed and how strangely wonderful seeing the remarkable statue made them feel�

P. S. Gifford is a transplanted Englishman who now lives the life of Riley in Southern California. He has written well over one hundred short stories and has been published in a variety of places. He is married, has a son, two dogs, one rabbit and an endless dream.