I recently started a personal challenge of writing a one-page story/scene/description/dialogue a day when I’m not drafting anything new, with the intention of sharing one of those stories a week with you. If you scroll through the posts you can find them, but to make it easier, I thought I’d collect them here as well. Happy reading!
Week 2: #11 Kiss
She closed her eyes and could feel his breath on her cheek. The pressure of his hands slid up from her waist, tracing along her spine, to cup the back of her neck, to tangle in the waves of her hair.
Her heart sped up as he pressed against the length of her, both of them drawing out the moment, luxuriating in every shiver, every tingle.
She had wished so long and hard for his moment. Prayed every day that it could be possible, even when she had sworn that it couldn’t. Fate wasn’t always cruel. Love didn’t always lead a person down the path of pain. Miracles did happen.
She had to believe that.
His lips were on hers. She felt their warmth, tasted their longing and desire, knew in that one moment that he needed this as much as she did.
She wanted him to kiss her forever and hang onto to this sensation of being completely alive. But he stopped.
Disappointed, she opened her eyes.
And saw no one.
Week 1: #1 Cake
The chocolate pastry sat dead centre on the plate, powered sugar and chocolate sauce shaken and poured over iced and ceramic surfaces. A precise dollop of whipped cream waited on the side, topped by a ripe strawberry sliced down the middle. The presentation was perfect. Strategic. Not a sprinkle of sugar out of place.
I smiled with warm pride.
As it was a special occasion, I carried the plate myself, pushing through the swinging doors of the kitchen in my clean white uniform and hat. A smile pasted on my face as I imagined the reaction of the customer when the first bite was tasted.
Never mind the words that had been exchanged the week before. Never mind the termination notice still sitting on my desk in the back room.
All that mattered was this moment.
I set down the plate. “Bon appetit.”
The restaurant owner took a critical bite.
I continued to smile, waiting for the arsenic to kick in.