The room faded away around her, the bed, the dressers, the walls and windows, disappeared, faded out, until the only thing he saw was her standing there. A sheet twisted demurely around her body. Hair falling haphazardly. Chin tucked in slightly, eyes looking up and beckoning with each slow flap of her eyelashes.

Nothing else existed, just her and him and the unbearable distance between them.

The sheet shifted, her leg emerged, bent at the knee. She spun slowly to face him. Walking forward, unbuttoning his shirt, kicking his shoes off and into the white void surrounding them.

The emptiness grew brighter as he approached. Moved from white to the clear heat of a summer's noon day sun.

They stood inches apart, baking in the heat of anticipation. Seconds were years. Mountains crumbled as she parted her lips and let the sheet fall to the floor.

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kmh289 almost 12 years ago

I really liked the way heat and light ran through your story- especially the phrase "baking in the heat of anticipation." Really evocative.

CraigTowsley (joined about 13 years ago)
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I think this site is like a power juicer to the armadillo-skinned oranges of writer's block.

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