dark evening air drifts into the room.
she dances in a pool of moonlight on the ground, and his heart weighs a little less.
her bed is damp from the rain, but she refuses to close the window- rain keeps away bad spirits.
tonight is for moon puddles,
for rain,
for good spirits.
and in the pitch-black, quieter-than-quiet night, as the dusk covers her face in shades of blue, he whispers,
"do you love me?"
and she says,
"not like that."
YOU ARE READING
//not like that//
Short Storyhe whispers, "do you love me?" and she says, "not like that."
