By Susan Gale Wickes
I was seven. He was nine. I ran from him on the playground.
He caught up. “You can kiss me if you want,” he said breathlessly.
I took off.
Nine years later, I stopped running.
Two years after, he slipped his hands in mine as we said our vows. I whispered, “You can kiss me if you want.”
He did.
Thirty years later, on the road to happily ever after, he made a wrong turn.
I thought it was a dead-end.
“Just a detour,” he said, leaning in for a kiss.
It tasted different, somehow…bittersweet, but potent.
He was right.
I liked this a lot!
Thank you!
Wow! So much told in a few words. Powerful.
Thanks, Karisa.
Well done.
Thank you.
Really good – love the twists
Thanks. I appreciate the feedback.
Beautifully written story.
Thanks, Brian. Glad you enjoyed it.
Yes, Christmas kept me busy so I’m reading this late. Cases of the dreaded Severn Year Itch don’t make the six o’clock news unless you’re a player, then the story’s a head-line maker and a head shaker. Thanks, Susan.
Better late than never, Glenn. Thanks for taking the time to read this. And here’s to a new year with new stories…and hopefully no serious cases of the seven-year-itch.