So, this is pretty self indulgent, but isn't posting a diary online and expecting anyone to read it pretty narcissistic anyway? I figure it is, so sod it.
I wrote this little short story in response to a competition. Submitted it. Heard nothing. Still mine though, so I'll stick it here.
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Their lips touched once, twice, thrice. Hesitant, tentative, bashful. First, chastely. Second, demurely. The third time insistently, as they fell in love.
He thought of the first time they met, the softness of her skin as she took his hand, they way her eyes glittered in the light like a fistful of sapphires piled in a snow white palm, the smell of vanilla as he leant forward to kiss her cheek.
She thought of the warmth of his smile as he leant towards her, the flush that rose unwanted in her cheeks as his stubble grazed her face, the pounding of her heart as he drew away.
In that brief instant they could feel their lives unfolding into the future: years spent together, travelling, exploring, a wealth of experiences cementing their passion. Walking on sandy beaches whilst the wind whips salt water into their hair. Sitting beneath broad oak trees, drinking wine and gazing at a peach and violet sunset. Raising their children, three all told, with her grace and his strength, her laugh and his wit, tall and brave.
Watching their
first steps, hearing their first words, sharing in their triumphs and commiserating with them on their defeats. Growing older, growing together, taking comfort in their love with the passing of each year.
These things they told me, my sister and my husband, the day he asked for the divorce.
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