wine lips

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Flash Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: February 10, 2017

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Submitted: February 10, 2017

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The crack of the surf against the jagged rock repudiated the serene greening blue of the ocean beyond it, denying her its peace with every cold stinging kiss.

She came here because they’d come here, before; they’d sat on the promontory with wine and snacks from the little store in town, the one where things always cost more than expected.

They’d sat on the bluff and bluffed. He said don’t you find with a little time and space, a little perspective, it always ends up okay, manageable. He said that’s why I like to come out here, to remind myself. She said I guess you’re right, things always do work out.

She took little sips of wine, only wetting her lips. He kept going to refill her cup, and finding it full. She didn’t want to drink, and she didn’t want not to drink, the former bad, the latter unthinkable.

Of course, she didn’t want him to notice either, to see her deliberating. She wanted to know what he really thought, before she allowed herself to think.

A little time and space, he’d kept saying, while her wet lips grew cold.


© Copyright 2018 ME Pesant. All rights reserved.

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