fifteen

The only image that survived until the end of this writing was that of an empty hospital bed. This is romance in flash fiction. How many ways can you say "I Love You" without using those three words? Ah, the eternal struggle.

fifteen
Word count: 625
Summary: Fifteen ways he kissed her while the world stayed still.

 

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Day 1. A kiss on the left cheek. He had been hesitant. It was, after all, the beginning of the end and he was still finding his way across the plane of her face. He still hadn’t gotten the right measure of proximity between their bodies or the degree of which he needed to angle his head down. At this point in time he knew he looked stupid. But he had taken the first step and it felt just right.

Day 2. A kiss on the right cheek. He dove, all eagerness, and bumped her on the forehead. She winced, grinned, and offered him the right cheek again. “Slowly,” she mouthed. He took a deep breath and muttered, “We may end up with concussions at the end.” She rolled her eyes.

He pecked her anyway.

Day 3. A kiss on the forehead. “For yesterday,” he murmured. “This one’s easy.”

Day 4. A kiss on the nose. She told him that he was getting creative. He took the compliment in stride, but in all honesty he was running out of ideas. Eleven more spots to go and he didn’t know if he would be able to wait. Or if he would make it on time.

Day 5. A kiss on the back of her left ear. “I’m not a cat,” she said in a gruff tone. He could hear the smile in her voice, though, and for a brief moment tasted triumph.

Day 6. A kiss on the back of her right ear. He cupped her face in one hand and traced the line of her jaw with his thumb. He could feel the shudder rising from her body. Knowing that he was responsible for that gave him an immeasurable mix of thrill and fear.

Day 7. A kiss on the back of the left hand. The enduring fear kept him old-fashion and he only permitted himself this much by putting a distance. He couldn’t look her in the eyes. She would read everything and he would be oh so naked.

Day 8. A kiss on the right wrist. She didn’t want him to run and that morning she had sprayed her mother’s perfume right on the skin where underneath the soft blue veins of her young life branched out.

He could feel her pulse throb.

Day 9. A kiss on the left palm. “For what I’m about to receive,” he whispered against her skin.

Day 10. A kiss on the right shoulder. On top of the beauty mark that drove him to obsession every time her blouse slipped off. It took him all of his self-control not to put the errant cloth back in its place. He liked to keep the little secret private, but he liked her respect even more.

Day 11. A kiss on the hair. He took her long curls, felt their softness in his hand, and bent down to bid them good-bye.

Day 12. A kiss on the left shoulder. He didn’t realize that the skin could be such a telling thing, especially when hers covered only so much flesh and mostly bones. The dull ache in his chest returned and he reminded himself. Three more to go.

Day 13. A kiss on the side of her neck. She was sleeping and he climbed onto her bed. Closing his eyes, he listened to the layers of silence in the room, only to be drowned by the sound of her constant breathing.

Inhale and exhale.

Day 14. Rain of kisses on the eyelids. There was a trace of tears at the corner of her eyes. He wiped it off, but couldn’t contain his own.

Day 15. A kiss on the mouth.

She was still warm.

He lingered and wished for a miracle.