by Stephen King
They stood like that until the caboose passed, trailing its small red lights off into the west. Then she drew away from him a little - but not out of the circle of his arms - and looked at him.
'Am I free, Sam? Am I really free of her? It feels like I am, but I can hardly believe it.'
'You're free,' Sam agreed. 'Your fine is paid, too, Sarah. Forever and ever, your fine is paid.'
She brought her face to his and began to cover his lips and cheeks and eyes with small kisses. Her own eyes did not close as she did this; she looked at him gravely all the while.
He took her hands at last and said, 'Why don't we go back inside, and finish paying our respects? Your friends will be wondering where you are.'
'They can be your friends, too, Sam ... if you want them to be.'
He nodded. 'I do. I want that a lot.'
'Honesty and belief,' she said, and touched his cheek.
'Those are the words.' He kissed her again, then offered his arm. 'Will you walk with me, lady?'
She linked her arm through his. 'Anywhere you want, sir. Anywhere at all.'
They walked slowly back across the lawn to Angle Street together, arm in arm.
