The band played. It kept the joints feeling alive. Even on the days when segregation kept the smiles at bay, the band played...

The nation was awash with white-wash. It had always been. Even down south, where fifty-percent of the population was black, they still had to be separated from their high society brethren. Own schools. Own churches. Football teams. Even in the act of death, there was still the thought their skin color might dirty 'em up, white cemeteries denying the colored folk a place to rest as equals.

He heard her sobbing at the back. On her knees, praying, was Mamie. She shouldn't have been here. But she couldn't help herself. She needed to pay her respects. And at the very least, come away feeling like it wasn't all for nothing.

He'd been to war and back for her. Died on his sword, as they'd taken away his shield on account of her. Love knew no bounds. But they knew, that the rules had walls. Big, thick, white-washed walls. Being a colored women and a white man, it was never going to work.

She sobbed her pains away. The tears streamed down her face. Her left hand wiped some of them off. But she didn't care too much for appearances. How could she? She was just a pair of hands. A soul-less body ploughing the fields to make the earth more fertile, for the seeds to be reaped by more honorable men and women. She wasn't truly alive. Not till he lay his eyes upon her.

What they say about love at first sight was mostly a post card story. Something to throw into someone's lap to remind them of a better time. To keep the marital contract strong. As for most, it eventually faded. That initial feeling of wonderment. Of being seen by the other. Of shared bonds, and shared passions.

But not all. Some met on a whim and couldn't help but fall apart. Because it was the opening up, the complete release and surrender of oneself, that allowed you to truly love. To be broken in two, and by the other before you be brought back to one. To some, it actually existed. And maybe, just maybe for them, it was because it was a forbidden fruit...

John plucked an apple from the tree as he stopped. He'd been walking the country road. It was a nice day out. The sun shining high in the sky. But it seemed to be fading quick. Dark clouds were gathering. He noticed this as he took to the long road back from the general store. Slowly the day had begun to turn. Which was odd for this country town. But not unheard of.

As the clouds clashed in the sky, he took to the shelter of an apple tree. And as he had time to spare, why not indulge in it. Take what was offered freely to any who passed. Well not most, not those folks like Mamie.

As the water drizzled down upon the surrounding open fields and countryside, he caught wind of her before she even appeared to his naked eye. Her bare feet slapping on what was quickly becoming puddles on the raggedy road. And just like the wild path between the neighboring plots of land, she appeared the same.

Her hair was now a tangled shaggy mess. Her white blouse showing water marks, her dark skin lightly seen through it. But it was her eyes that had him. Those big brown eyes, as he turned to notice her trying to do the same as he, and get a little shelter from the oncoming pour.

He forget he had the piece of fruit in his hand. His mouth may have even fallen to the floor before it did. She bent down and picked it up, without hesitation. And bounced back to her feet with a smile. Those big brown eyes catching his heart once more as she looked into him, and politely handed it back.

All he could do was stare. She looked so natural. No need for correct attire, like others who stepped out on the town. Even in such casual settings, women of fairer skin were always trying to look proper. Whatever proper was. He didn't understand it. They just seemed to look stiff. Stifled. Like they were the ones wearing a collar, and Mamie looked like she was freer than they.

"I suppose you dropped this." She said with a playful demeanor.

"I... I suppose you're right." John cautiously replied as he outstretched his hand to receive it.

She quickly took a bite, then slapped it into his palm. With bits of white flesh and saliva showing she let out a loud laugh. Trying to contain herself, she covered her mouth as she chewed the nectar of the God's. To her it was. She hadn't eaten all day. Hungry wasn't a word to try to describe it.

His eyes widened at the cheek of the girl. His smile showing his appreciation was apparent. And then he too took a big bite and quickly began to chew. He couldn't help himself, and soon enough his enthusiasm broke into laughter too.

Bits of her response ended up on his shirt, nearly choking as she coughed up some of the apple in complete satisfied amusement. She was just at shocked at his response, as he'd been at hers. But both, equally enjoying the spontaneous meeting. In such a contrast to the gloomy day as it had become overhead, the two were in hysterics under the apple tree.

John handed the apple back, as he began to compose himself. He had been sent to the store for some items for his father, which hadn't yet arrived. He was heavy footed about it on the return. His father didn't seem to take kindly to any kind of news he didn't want to hear, no matter the reason. So this, this was a very welcome surprise. And he, unlike most in the town, didn't see those of another skin color as something different.

He saw them as they were. Treated poorly. Abused. Underappreciated. Even the help on the plot of land his father owned. He tried to assist them from time to time, himself. Help them with their chores. With just feeling like they weren't as they were being treated. So sharing close space with Mamie didn't seem odd to him. How she herself was, kind of did though.

She was a lively sort. A ball of energy that couldn't be contained, no matter the shackles. No matter the lashings, she always awoke with a smile and a cheek about her. Which was what got her into most of her troubles in the first place. She was free, regardless of what role others tried to force upon her. And they just couldn't stand it.

She slowly took the apple, squinting at John as she did. She still had a smile, yet playfully acted cautious, as a bit of mockery to how he first received her. She tossed it up in the air a few times, the piece of fruit barely leaving her palm, as she looked him over. He seemed different to her than most boys. Less afraid. Less intense in how he was interacting with her.

"Mamie is my name." She said before taking another bite and handing the apple back.

"John, mine." He quickly mirrored, and then did the same again by taking another bite, this time taking the apple back with a casual ease.

Their hands touched a moment as they shared the condiment to a bitter sweet afternoon shower. And they both noticed the touch. Both, feeling a little happy about the fact. And both, trying not to let that fact be known.

They continued their interaction in joyous harmony, under the protection of what would become the place they'd start to meet of a night. The spot they'd use to welcome the chance to see one another, even if for only a few hours, and in the darkest hours of the daylight's happenings. To sneak out and get up to adolescent mischief together.

They were innocent. And that was what had them so attracted to begin with. Playful, both. Yet strong willed. To have to live through times of great depression, in economic terms, but also in equality terms. To see what they did and had around them, and to feel so different from the social standards that most others adhered to.

And to somehow meet among all of it. To see their soul in the other. To truly see what it was like to be them, through the recognition of that in someone else. They were practically one and the same, and yet to others, also very different.

The afternoon of their meeting wore on, and became much more than a simple chance encounter. It was a seed planted, under an apple tree, that would blossom into more than life itself. Because John would later hang from that same tree. In an ironic twist, at the hands of Mamie's father. To prevent more bloodshed between the two families.

It was a tale of love, but also of woe. And she just had to be at the cemetery all those years later. She had to, for him. He'd died for her. He'd loved her with such fullness that he let it be all of him. His life, and his death. And for that she wept.

Joe heard her as he was making his way from another funeral service. He shouldn't have been at that one, just as she shouldn't have been at the foot of her lover's grave site. But weird things seemed to follow Joe Adonis. Like ghosts. They'd keep him up at night, and for many a night. Maybe they were just an excuse to drink more. Or the results of doing so much drinking. The lines were warped.

He knew though, that he couldn't just let her be here. Someone would see her and have their angst out on her. Just like the sister of a man he'd shot and killed just did to him, fifty or so tombstones down. His was justified. Hers wouldn't be, and would be much like the reason she was here in the first place.

Adonis approached the kneeling women. She had flowers in her right hand, which were a nice thought. But her heart was too heavy to have noticed she'd bent them at the stems in her release of emotions. They slanted side-wards, as if the winds of change were blowing them so. He put his arm around her shoulder as he got down on bended knee.

"Come on. I'll get you a coffee."