A dream in two paragraphs.

I lay atop dark, tangled sheets soft and exhausted, slightly glowing.  He crawled over me all bronzed skin and bright smile, hair and eyes as black as coal.  In tongue-curled English he snarled at me, “I told you: no mascara.”

He reached out with both big hands and cupped my face like a basketball.  His thumbs gently swiped from beside my nose to my cheekbones and with them all of my tear-soaked mascara.


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