Sheets the colour of fresh snow billow around her like ghosts of nights past. She swats them away as they tangle around her torso, touch between her thighs, caress her chin. Then pulls them close, buries her nose in the pale linen. They smell of soap. No longer saturated with comfort and sweat, they are wet and cold. Cold like the bed when she awoke at day’s break to find nothing beside her but open space.
She hums a melancholy tune as she hangs each one, row upon row, line upon line, until they resemble the wall he erects between them. The one she conquers at every rendezvous, only to find it’s grown taller since the time past. The one she wants to tear down, create a love nest with instead.
A stray corner drapes her head like a veil she’s never worn. She leaves it to linger, relishes the simple thought. Plucks a dandelion, gone to seed. Makes a wish, watches it drift away. The way he does after each stay.
Sun blazes down upon her; she wipes moisture from her brow, traces the route his fingers take when he comes around. Across her temple, down her cheek, to her jaw where he grips her roughly, kisses her mouth. She settles her fingers there. Kisses him back, blows it into the wind, hoping he’ll catch it, put it in his pocket, carry it with him.
A herculean gust drags ivory linen from its perch. It flutters down the hill, impertinent of its geometric state. Feet shift wildly as she pursues the memories, as if they are him. She grasps a frayed corner, the snowy fabric whips toward the sky, wraps around her. She reels it in, pulls it down, comes to face him, eye to eye.
“What are you doing here?” She wonders aloud, shocked to hear the words come out.
He takes her hand to say, “For a long time, I buried my heart’s light beneath layers of pain and anger, but somehow you’ve managed to find a way past my defenses with the simple charm of your brilliant smile and the innocent twinkle of your cerulean eyes.”
With a leap, she settles in the confines of his arms, holds him to her tight. Kisses his lips, her smile bright. He’s here now, and she doesn’t have the heart to tell him. Her eyes are green.
I wrote White Sheets last year as a second round entry for the Blogable Fiction Marathon which I was a finalist in. It was a great way to hone my skills, but unfortunately I cannot take part this year as I have too many things on the go (including 2 books). If you’re interested in learning more about the marathon, or better yet, giving it a go, check out this year’s marathon here.
Image for white sheets by Karne Mae and found on unsplash.
For more Mmm’s, lick the lips.
For more from “back in my day” (like when I used to have spare time), hit the bullseye!
I apologise for my absence as of late. Check this and this out, while I get my dicks (I mean ducks, truly) in a row.
Beautifully written, almost poetry.
Good work. It is clear why you became a finalist.
A fave of mine Mrs k – wonderful writing
May x
agreed brilliant.. loved it
I absolutely LOVE this story. Seriously, MrsK, this IS brilliant writing, evoking so many emotions in me while reading. Thank you for sharing this again, and of course for promoting the marathon!
~ Marie xox