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Three Acts

I. "Don't wolf your food," Miss Heath scolds. Miss Heath wears miniskirts and has long brushed hair. She smells like lilacs and butter. When she stands next to me in Home Ec, she calls me sweetie. "Small bites," she says. "Savor." I take small bites. I learn savor, and also nuance.

II. I meet Kelly at a bar, my first year out of college. Kelly has been out considerably longer. She calls me sexy because she can't remember my name. Later, back at her apartment, she whispers, "Slow down," and spreads her warm fingers against my chest. "Make it last." Sandalwood thickens the air as we ride out our passions against the rhythm of her waterbed. During the next year I come to understand sensuality and anticipation.

III. It rained most of last night, stopping just before daybreak. Now the morning glistens everywhere. Roisin, my granddaughter, takes my hand as we walk to the park. I dry the metal seat of the swing as best I can with my sleeve, and she settles into it. I pull her back and let her go. "Higher, Poppy!" she screams, trusting my sure touch. She is wild, all squeals and laughter on this fine day. I am hold and release.

Story by:

Dan Allen

submitted at 2:17pm

29 December 2011

Dan Allen's web:

danallenwrites.blogspot.com