Midsummer Love

Here's a kernel of a story I'm hearing from the ether.

      With candle in hand he climbed the stairs to the attic. This was a room he visited only once each year. The room looked much like any other storage room containing various cartons of clothes, decorative objects, and furniture not suitable for use but too good to get rid of. There was a small solitary window through which the moon cast a single ethereal beam. This was reflected and magnified by the cheval mirror standing sentry nearby. He seated himself on an ottoman placed in front of the mirror. He carefully placed the candle on the floor between the mirror and him and settled down to wait. 

    His ritual had become a sort of anniversary observance for the last seven years. The commemoration wasn't due to a birthday or wedding, or even a first date. Midsummer night, however, was the first time they had met again. Seven years ago this night, Filip had encountered quite by accident his beloved for the first time after Lars had passed away. 

      To say Filip looked forward to these encounters would be a gross understatement. The two men had instantly been so close only Death could come between them. For one night, even Death was defeated. Theirs was a passion so strong they often wondered together in each other's arms if they might have known each other in another life. Now that Lars was on the other side, he was able to show Filip this was indeed true. Every year, Lars showed Filip another episode in their love affair that as it turned out spanned centuries.

       As Filip gazed at his own reflection a silvery ball began to pulse over his left shoulder and grow larger. In seconds that seemed like hours, the ball had grown into the image Filip knew so well. Lars had arrived.