He carried me over the threshold. That, in itself, was not an easy task.
I should have loved him for that alone, but I always wanted more.
“You missed a spot.” I twirled the just-washed glass around in the sunlight.
He reached to take it, but I smiled. “Let me.”
Susan Gale Wickes hails from the Midwest. She likes writing and daydreaming about where it might lead.
Standing by the rails, feeling ethereal in the moonlight, I feel no cold, nor pain on the soles of my feet.
Yet my senses are heightened.
Breathing. Breathing. Breathing.
Thunder becomes a crescendo as the train bursts from the tunnel.
It brushes me. I sway. I turn.
Not this time.
Jean Lloyd enjoys the challenge of fitting a story into so few words. When she retires, she would like to try writing a book, but she’s sure it’s a lot harder than it looks!