Contributor: Tracey S. Rosenberg
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His arm tightened around my shoulders. "After tonight, I don’t want to see you anymore."
"You always say – "
"I mean it. Don’t stop by."
The DVD player blinked 12:00, 12:00, 12:00. On his mantelpiece lay a pot of menthol lip balm and two pairs of rechargeable batteries. Pressing closer to him, I touched his chest, searching for his heart beneath his thin sweater. "Have you been running lately? The London Marathon’s coming up soon."
"No time to train. I certainly don’t have time to cuddle you on the sofa. Go. Scram." He pulled away, leaving his hand grasping the back of my neck. "I have too much work I ought to be doing. Sorry if that hurts, but I believe in honesty."
If he hadn't been wearing his sweater, his ribs would have jutted against my fingers. His sweater looked gray from...
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Author:
Tracey S. Rosenberg
