You kissed me once, while seated on a bench in Central Park, our gloved hands held steaming cups of coffee. My booted foot toed a long dead seed pod, and its remnants scattered on the sidewalk.
Our silence spoke of the depth of our love. How it had settled into the corners of our hearts made dusty by time and the broken shards left by other lovers.
I took a sip of steaming coffee, then kissed your mouth. We smiled at each other, as I drank in the beauty of your face.
You whispered, ‘thank you’, and I blushed in my reply.
Genre: Romance/101 Words
It’s been so long since I’ve participated in Friday Fictioneers, but this photo spoke to me. Please give me constructive criticism. I assure you I’m tough, and I can take it.
Thanks Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for hosting this exercise in discipline. It is a joy to work with you and have you comment on my work.
Readers please check out the other stories found on Rochelle’s page. Thanks for stopping by.