Duck Lake No one dies from love; guess I'll be the first

the man nodded, his silken gaze a caress. "yes." voice hushed, as if he might be opening a sepulcher. 
"you said that she died." his brow furrowed; his arms tightened. he did not want to see pain cross her face! and yet, he was pleased and honored that she brought him again and even now the seed of this assumed agony.
"what happened, reverie?"