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Mourning Morning

Short story By: darthfreckles
Memoir



A young girl has a very well-hidden secret...or does she?


Submitted:Dec 4, 2012    Reads: 149    Comments: 3    Likes: 2   


I wake up before dawn, and just like every day that week, check my phone immediately, waiting and yearning to hear from you. The screen is empty, and my heart begins to sink. I force a smile as he wakes up next to me, keeping my true emotions hidden from view. You are my secret, my wonderful, sweet, caring secret. I kiss him as he leaves for work, rushing him out the door so I can be alone with my thoughts, and with you.
The phone vibrates, and I can not contain my excitement as your name scrolls across my screen. That familiar feeling creeps through my body, the slow heat of passion I feel every time we talk. Even a simple hello from you brightens my whole day, and the message I receive is much more than a hello. My eyes scan the passage and see the words "I love you."
My heart beats violently inside my chest, and time seems to stop, yet my fingers are quick to reply with a mirrored message. Those three words can be said to much, but from you, it's never enough. I set the phone down gently, as if to not disturb the connection that has been made, and try to go about business as usual. However, my mind is clouded with thoughts of you; your voice, your eyes, everything about you.
I feel my hands drift down my body, grazing over my heart and feeling your warmth. I close my eyes, and imagine you exploring my body, your fingers tracing slow, long lines up and down my frame. A shy smile forms on my face as you reach my hips, and pull your fingers across the tightened muscles of my stomach, rubbing circles around my belly button. I let out a whimper as your lips caress the skin at the apex of my thighs. I thread my fingers through your shaggy hair, bringing you closer to my core. Your name rolls across my lips in a breathless whisper as I beg for you to push me over the edge.
Just before I fall, there is a snag in the fabric at the back of my mind. I feel something wrong, something that doesn't quite fit my picture-perfect world. It's cold, icy, sending tingles up my arm and spreading throughout my body.
That warm-fuzzy feeling starts to fade as I realize that it's his hand, gently rubbing my arm in an attempt to awake me from my deep slumber. As I rub the sleep out of my dry eyes, a feeling of fear races through me. It was only a dream, a sweet, perfect dream. I glance at my phone, as if waiting for it to prove me wrong. I even go as far as to look up your name, but the search is futile. I know it's all a lie, a dream to combat the fear of facing this reality. I finally come to my senses, and mourn this morning, this dreadful morning when I wake up and find you gone. I can't help but wonder whose dream you will haunt next; my secret hope is that you'll visit mine soon.




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