Towers (abbreviated fiction, early 2007)
The delicate pounding of the rain against the window pane calms my nerves slightly, setting a precedent for the rhythm my heartbeat should follow - slow, but persistent. And then you walk into the foyer, and all hope for my heart’s calmed beating is lost. Our bed sheets are wrapped messily around your smooth, inked hips and your dark hair sticks up in all directions. You frown at my body curled up in the window box, my forehead pressed firmly against the glass.
“Dreaming of Never-Never land again, Wendy?” you sneak up behind me and coo into the curve of my ear.
I get up and smile sadly, curling my body into your tattooed arms. Your hands splay across my shirtless back, rubbing meaningless patterns to warm my skin. I focus on the swirls of color around the music staff on your right bicep. The yellow stars make me smile; they remind me of pixie dust.
“What’s for breakfast then, Peter Pan?”
“Dreaming of Never-Never land again, Wendy?” you sneak up behind me and coo into the curve of my ear.
I get up and smile sadly, curling my body into your tattooed arms. Your hands splay across my shirtless back, rubbing meaningless patterns to warm my skin. I focus on the swirls of color around the music staff on your right bicep. The yellow stars make me smile; they remind me of pixie dust.
“What’s for breakfast then, Peter Pan?”