Please enjoy this Fiction in 58

Gestures Not Made
Hair cascades down fingers that cover her sleeping face; crumpled covers she’s kicked free bunch at her hips.
He watches. The soft rise and fall of her ribs; the freckles, the birthmark he liked to kiss.
They’d argued.
He reaches out to her but she rolls, mews a whisper.
His hand hovers; in that instant, he pulls back.


Anonymous said...

Thank you! I did enjoy this. So much. I just don't know how you can convey so much with so little, but that is what you have done. Wonderful!

Anonymous said...

"he pulls back"

wise move