Pema and Arthur hiked down the waterfall trail leading from Jamalu, a remote village.
They stopped to embrace. “I love you,” Arthur said, his eyes feasting on her exotic beauty. He wanted to take her back to Canada, get married, and start a family.
At the next cascade, his face registered confusion. Pema’s voluptuous body had become thin, stooped, and wrinkled.
“Pema, I don’t understand.”
“I’m sorry. The clerics warned me rapid aging would happen,” she said, picking up a long stick to help herself walk. “Foolish me believed in the power of hopeful thinking. I need to return to Jamalu.”
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