Even now, if he kept the jar safe, he could bond with Sarah whenever he wanted. Nobody else would know. He could delay saying good-bye; he wouldn’t have to feel so alone, so bereft. He could connect with her right up to the moment that her depleted essence finally faded to nothing.
How long would that take? Days? Weeks? Possibly months for Sarah trapped inside her prison.
Langton bowed his head a moment before turning the seal in his hand and releasing the lid.
The bright mist within swirled from the jar and enveloped Langton. Soft and warm, it set his skin tingling. He closed his eyes as a thousand overlapping memories surged through him: Sarah laughing before they kissed, dancing to soft music, running through the rain, her eyes locking onto his over a candle’s flame. The feel of her hand resting in his; her skin gliding under his hand; the warmth of her lips on his neck; her words whispering in his ear; the smell of her perfume…
And then she was gone. Langton stood on the wharf and watched the bright mist rise and dissolve into the pink light of dawn over the Mersey. Hand outstretched, he tracked every particle before the sunlight absorbed them. He breathed cold morning air and let the moment settle through him like rain. Then he smiled good-bye and turned back toward the street and the waking city.
Behind him, golden in the new day, rose the waiting towers and cables of the Transatlantic Span. And beyond the Span, America.