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Words That Break

Four in the morning and he decided he would go to his bed. His three friends were left stretched out on two sofas, the marathon of Home Movies still running. Empty bottles and potato chip bags. Another episode down and she was ready for bed herself. All the energy she had, she then used in getting up and drifting to his door-left open-, knocking on the wall once and whispering, "Is it okay if I share the bed?"

She crept in, he was facing her, and she faced him. Every minute they drew closer until their knees met. Their legs began to stretch out, and the more vertical they became, the more they could feel each others' breath. His heart beat fast, skipping counts now and then. Hers was steady, calm, and she was smiling. His arm crossed her body and spilled over her back, his hand slightly grabbing the sheets. Their legs now interlaced, and there was no space left between them.

His hand drifted to her face and placed a loose strand behind her ear. All was soft, slow, gentle.

He opened his mouth-her lips were warm and moist-, and he said, "Can I kiss you?"

The would-be kiss was abandoned to silence.

Story by:

Anahí Arana

submitted at 3:53am

15 June 2011

Anahí Arana's web:

shootthecritic.com