By Kimberly Holcombe
Your callused fingers trailing my hip remind me of our last night together, five years ago. Your lips linger at my neck. Tears spill as the image of you kissing her penetrates my mind.
The urge in your eyes engulfs me, pulls up the betrayal I felt when you ran away with her. Why did you run back to me? I place my hands on your chest. Push you away.
“This needs to stop,” I whisper.
You sigh and stare at the ceiling.
“What’s the problem?” you ask, before rolling over and pressing your lips to mine.
You are.
Great job at creating a picture and complete story in such few words.