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.
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.
Comments
wise move
s.