She paces like a jaguar on the prowl, sniffing at the wind for a hint of his presence. Her face is flushed and ready, poised to pounce when the moment is right and the night air is perfectly still. The light of the moon reveals her profile high upon the ridge, slim and muscular, her body tight in anticipation of springing toward him with an open mouth and full embrace.
Alone and dejected, he trudges away in the desert night, far below the high ridge. His shadow transforms into a smudge in the early morning air as the sun quenches the light of the moon. Had he but known, he would have climbed toward the moon, an eager and willing prey.
At this intersection between night and day, as the distance between them grows, their most regrettable fault is their inability to read minds.