The Shadow Walkers

Whizzing homeward late after work, I happened on a man, who was no spring chicken, wandering in the wooded shadows with a kitten of a girl. Their bodies brushed over and over against each other, and uttered loose language. When my headlights groped their grovelling guilt, they seemed to shilly-shally, and then they came a yard or two apart, but they kept on waltzing with uneasy gait; he, with a stalking saunter, and she, beside him, with summary steps. The uneasiness betrayed that they knew they shouldn’t be there – a psychedelic fact which surely doubled their thrill. As the brightness slunk away, they quickened their steps again, and were soon lost to my rear-view mirror.