"I often think that the night is more alive and more richly colored than the day." - Vincent Van Gogh
"You know this is a complete fire hazard, and on top of it, you're in a building full of flammable books," Easton lectured, glancing at the couple of candles they lit.
"It always smells so musty in here, forgive me for bringing in a few candles," Millie argued.
They were tangled in a pile of coats and clothes, with the spare blanket that Millie kept under her desk for when she got cold working. They laid in between the bookcases of the Children's Section, the glow in the dark star stickers plastered on the ceiling were almost better than real stars.
She lay there on top of him, his arm draped over her stomach. They could have lay there for hours, his knees pressed tight into her hips and her arms wrapped gently around his neck. He looked at her glowing in the warm candle light, she looked like she had been kissed by the stars with the light reflecting over her wind burnt cheeks. He admired the way her body felt against his, everything just felt... right.
He could feel her chest expand and contract on top of his as she breathed warm air that tickled the side of his neck. He wished for this feeling all the time. He could only imagine a life with her, he would be the happiest man in the world if he got to hold her like this every night. He tightened his grasp around her waist as he turned slightly and looked out of the window, only to find the the clouds much lighter, and a couple of cars rolling down the street. It was dawn, the storm was over, and there was nothing left to do but wish that it was night again.
ВЫ ЧИТАЕТЕ
The Lonely Librarian
Короткий рассказMildred Allister has fled to a sleepy town to escape her painful past. Although away from her troubles, she's discontent with her routine lifestyle... that is until Easton Henry arrives at her library.
