"Fantasy," A Short Story
Outside, the sky is smeared with chocolate. The lights are faint and ominous. My tall, gigantic windows are still and gentle, leaving no trace of wet rain or powered snow. The frame to my bed is gone, and it is plopped in the middle of the room; there are legs poking out from under the blanket. The wood, as I walk on it, is cold, which gave me a certain impulse to hurry. Lifting up the white blanket, He is already sleeping: soundlessly and motionlessly. Sensing that another body is there to join him, He turns to face me with his sky-blue eyes; with disheveled sugar-brown hair and skin warm and hairy, he pulls me closer to his chest; immediately, I am dozing off to the sound of his breath. Relaxed and at ease, my body is silent. With his arms hanging loosely around and across my body, I fall asleep. Early in the morning the breeze from the window is running through us, walking on our bare skin. Later that morning, the sun approaches; it seeps through the sheets giving off a golden color. Sharply, I hear droplets from the sink. I turn over aimlessly but the other half of the bed is empty.
Outside, the sky was chocolate. The lights were faint and ominous. My tall, gigantic windows were still and gentle, leaving no trace of wet rain or powder snow. The frame to my bed was gone, and it was plopped in the middle of the room. I envisioned His legs poking out from under the blanket. The wood, as I walked on it, was cold, which gave me a certain impulse to hurry. Lifting up the white blanket, the other side of the bed was empty.
Here, as the chocolate sky turns to fade away, I stroked myself to get warmer, and then I fell asleep to the sound of my breath.