Spring.

It was the season of new beginnings. Of change. It was fitting their new relationship began now.

The man listened to bird song; smelled blossoms; saw flowers; thought about his closest friend.

For years they’d come close to crossing the line. The line, once crossed, from which there could be no return. For years neither had spoken, fearing perhaps change might destroy.

Yet the change would be minimal; in many ways they’d already crossed the line. In essence, nothing, yet everything, would change.

It was time.

Leaving birds, blossom, flowers to their lives, he stepped into his new life.