Thanks to Bikurgurl for hosting #100WordWednesdays.
Our hidden place, a hollow in rustled leaves, tangled roots, as the river meanders close. I inhale verdant greenery and twigs crunch underfoot, as we sit on tree stumps near the shore.
Some occasions, the river trickles and torrents. At times, it’s poured buckets, and the banks pass eerie, too close to our feet. Sometimes it’s a kiss on our runners as we wade.
In the gleaming sun, the dimple of your left cheek lifts. Your grey-blue eyes sparkle; my hands clench as we banter. They curl around bark, roughness masking my wish to touch your hair — a hint of gray you deny. Your laughter resonates, and we quip as usual. I ruin my white Adidas twirling them in dirt. As the river, your stories flow; but, you’re to far — and to near all at once.
I peer up, nip my lip. “Keep me.” Two words implored.
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