They lay sideways. Her legs atop his, arms thrown over him, palms clutching his chest tenderly. She rested her head on his back. Silence. His warm skin glowed heat onto hers. “A desert man,” she thought. Her weight fell on her lower arm, almost numbing it. She solemnly squeezed it out, carefully shifting her head to the side. Her ear pegged on level with his back in proximity. Sound. She had heard something – thud, thud, thud. It beat in all rapidity. Slowly she clenched on his chest. The supple chest hair grazing gently against his shirt. It thumped against her hand. “Where is his heart?” she questioned herself in her thoughts. She pressed her ear against his back. It wavered euphoniously flooding the silence with every pound. She was bemused, puzzled. The moment was mystifying. She wondered where God had placed his heart, marveled at this enigma and speculated on the possibilities. It kept throbbing at the gist – an oeuvre of rhythms. His chest heaved in and out almost metrically. She felt a strange affinity with his novel pulsations.