[Miniatures] Extinguishing

I liked it when she was lazy. People tend to show more of themselves when they’re not concentrating, and she was no different. She wanted me, and who was I to refuse? The curl of her tongue against my bottom lip, the touch of her skin on mine as the pieces of clothing slipped off, one by one. The cogs that normally ticked away in her brain melted in the heat, and I smiled as she trickled down my body.

It was summer, you know. Hot and humid and sticky. I didn’t mind the heat, but she wanted to stay inside, where the air conditioning mingled with the wheezing of fans. She came back up to me, kissing the side of my neck and nibbling gently along my chin.

“I love you,” she whispered, and at first I didn’t process the words. My bed smelt of vanilla, of careless words and kisses, of burnt lavender. Her skin was mostly smooth, her hair split at the ends where it had grown too long to be healthy. I ran the words over in my head again. And again. And even when I managed to understand them, all I could think about was how pretty her eyes were, and how much life she had in her smile.

It was supposed to be hot. I knew that. Like the reddest of blood, scorching through your veins. Lighting you up, like nothing else had ever done before. But it wasn’t. Instead, it turned me to ice. And I knew what she wanted me to say, but I couldn’t. She sat in muted silence as the words refused to move from the back of my throat. She didn’t cry, even though I knew she wanted to, and when she left that day her kiss was sharp and full of purpose.

I didn’t know if she would come back. Even if she did, it would be different and I didn’t know if I could cope with that. We parted ways eventually, and now I’m writing this, thinking of her.

But it always turns out this way, doesn’t it? The imprint of her lips against mine, the memory of her fingernails digging into my back when she hugged me, the way her hair splayed out across my chest, over the curve of my breasts. It’s the little things that you never forget, no matter how hard you try, because you were lazy too, remember? You were lazy too.

This piece was first published in Miniatures, issue 1. Read more about Miniatures here.

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