He watched her chestnut hair lay smooth on the pillow next to his. He let his lips drift over the apricot flesh. He listened to her breathe and allowed his soul to wallow in it. For a moment he was at peace.
Her eyes flicked open and she flipped herself over like a fish on a hook.
"What?" she barked. Her eyes narrowed. "You woke me up. So, what is it?"
He began to stutter; mumbled something about just wanting to be as close to her as he could; enjoying watching her sleep. It was the wrong thing to say. It always was.
"Jesus, John," she hissed. She swung her legs over the side of the bed. Her dressing gown was hastily wrapped around her shoulders. Then, with a glance which spat venom, she yanked the light in the bathroom and slammed the door.
Time Up.
Her eyes flicked open and she flipped herself over like a fish on a hook.
"What?" she barked. Her eyes narrowed. "You woke me up. So, what is it?"
He began to stutter; mumbled something about just wanting to be as close to her as he could; enjoying watching her sleep. It was the wrong thing to say. It always was.
"Jesus, John," she hissed. She swung her legs over the side of the bed. Her dressing gown was hastily wrapped around her shoulders. Then, with a glance which spat venom, she yanked the light in the bathroom and slammed the door.
Time Up.
Inspiration: The Write Practice website provided the inspiration today. They suggested trying beige prose. They instructed to base it on the aftermath of Valentine's day.
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I would really welcome constructive comments or perhaps even some inspiration. To be honest , I would settle for some encouragement.