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Roylsden #322

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And then, as if time had stopped, his lips met mine. Just briefly, the slightest of touches. They broke away too soon, his breath warm on my face. And when our eyes met, our lips joined again, and I fought against my closing eyelids so that I could live forever in his rich brown eyes.
Outside, one lone bird sang, then others contributed, heralding a faint, hardly noticeable lightening of the dark, a new dawn breaking gently above distant hills.
When Clint pulls away, smiling, my face is hot, and for a reason I don't understand, I want to cry.

1 comment add one below

  • avatar

    Neville Hunt 10 months ago

    The ephemerality of something so life-changing. I remember it well!

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