Standing on the deck…
…Harold couldn't imagine how any of this had begun. A few dates and yet here she was, the most beatiful woman he had ever met. They clicked. LIke they had known each other for decades. The sound of the water and the feel of the cold air against his face was sobering. Sliding the screen door quietly he stepped back into the quiet of the house.
Mara was sprawled out in a tangle of blankets. Naked, asleep, her body curled next to the indentation where his form had been. He could never really sleep after sex. Perhaps it was the energy of the act, it woke him like coffee or cigarettes never could. When the body was depleted, the mind regained control. Pensive he stood, naked himself, admiring her form, her lines. He went back to the bedroom, the bed still made, the sheets and covers taught over the bed. Quietly he picked out a pair of shorts and then went back to the floor. Staring up at the ceiling, he replayed the events in his mind…