Early in the morning on the second of nine days in a row, a narrow play of moonlight, slotted through a blind, slashed the woman’s torso from just above the navel to just below her right eye. The gentle swell and roll of that sweet terrain in those last few hours before the gray dragged in the wider light mesmerized him.
Watching her sleep, he knew it would be like this forever: she, still, dreaming of airy tides, and he, lying beside her, assessing the roll of the sea and the measure of the beach. He was pleased, at last, to be at rest on her scented linen shore.
You’ll be Pleased with today’s The Daily Post