In the summer of 1963, both of them were alone on a mountain when they first met. The gradually fell in love with each other through the summer, but somehow their stay was cut short. None of them wanted to part but that was inevitable. One of them promised to return on the mountain the next season, but the other wasn’t sure.
During the next four years, both of them married somebody else and had children. They had lost all contact. Then, out of blue, one contacted the other and the old flame was reignited. They would go on short trips to make love, lying to their respective spouses. They would go atop the same mountain on which they had met.
One of them wanted to make their relationship permanent, but the other wasn’t ready. One of them got divorced, so the other was hoping they could now start living together. But still that was not to be.
Years passed. They would meet occasionally atop the same mountain, erect a tent and live like it was summer 1963. One day, in 1983, one of them got news of the other dying with the last wish being that the ashes be spread all across the mountain.
Like everything else, that was not to be.
The other lived forever remembering the love.
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