It's something he's thought about since the auction. The frequency of their conversations about death, and escaping death, and what happens after death. A backing symphony as intrinsic to their relationship as 'I Think We're Alone Now.'
He's in the loft... again. In one arm is Hank, cradled against his chest like a shaking baby, while he sets things on the dining table - the one where they never got to eat that nice steak dinner. Their usual order from the nearby Chinese place sits in a sturdy paper bag to keep it all warm, while a few pre-loved cassettes sit with a simple bow wrapped around them to keep them together. ABBA, Frank Sinatra, and the BeeGees. Two tickets to The Leslie-Lohman Museum of Art sit beside that. And then... a small, wrapped box.
If Lee were to open the little package, there would be an accessory he often wears - something that, perhaps, he already has too many of. But the one Asa has found is worthy enough to add to the collection - a memento mori, found in the illustrator's exploration into estate sales. More specifically - a ring, of black and gold. Vintage, and formerly someone's gift after death. A reminder from one love to another... now both gone.
The most fascinating thing about the ring - what had stopped Asa in his tracks - was the spot where a stone would be, nestled amidst black simple petal shapes. Instead, a glass inset... and upon further research, one would normally put their dead love's hair beneath. A literal memento of death. And so, inside the ring, woven so carefully, is Asa's dark raven hair in a braided lattice. A few thin gray strands intermixed- and set behind clean, lovely glass. From far away, it looks like any old dark stone. From up close, a textured marvel of something deeper.
He isn't dead - far from it. Never felt so alive. But in a world where two killers have found each other through a crime syndicate... well, perhaps a reminder of mortality, or the immortality of affections, is okay.
Can you settle for fancying the eventually dead, for now?
When he hears the door open, he turns, and both arms now hold the dog as he walks over, barefooted and wearing his comfortable clothes from being home most of the day. A kiss before anything else, as always, before a soft smile that glints in dark eyes. "Happy birthday, my love. You hungry? Hank and I nearly scarfed it all down without you."
