“What is romance?” Ryan asked.
“Lived spirit recognized in resonance with another soul,” she answered.
“Then how does it arise from the inanimate: colors in sky, lines in a book, sound of a song, sense of wind when alone in thought—memories?”
“All lives as spirit in contemplative mind.”
“And how do we know when romance is true?”
She smiled from secret that would remain as one, then spoke, “If you have to ask…it isn’t.”