30 days of drabbles - haze
For the first time in such a very long time, she feels warm. Content. Lashes brush dusty pink cheeks, but the little trickling lights on her skin persist. Her nose wrinkles. She burrows her face into a pillow; the scent of him overwhelms her senses when the rising sun cannot.
Images flash behind her closed eyelids. Clean yellow linens. Skin on skin. Tear tracks on a stubbly chin. Red trainers, white laces, hands fumbling on clasps and trembling over cotton knickers.
Chapped lips. A hand in hers. Sand. Blue. Two by two—
Amber eyes fly open.
He’s sleeping beside her. His bare chest rises and falls to the steady beat of a lonely heart.
She keeps it company when he wakes.