The world in which she lived would not allow a person, especially not a grown woman, to love, or to even dream of two things.
Like a wooden plank laid on the veridian Spring grass, the dark shadow of place and time can smother a dream as well as the dreamer.
And so it was, the choice was made.
One was sealed in the darkness and stagnant air of the wooden chest, stored out of sight in the tin barn.
One love remained.