Snippet of the Day
Her stomach rose and then fell like the steep climb and fast descent of a roller coaster. Flashes of light exploded behind her lids. Sorted laundry was scattered on the floor. Liz was crawling across the carpet of her bedroom. A wide beam of light poured through the window, blinding her.
“Duane,” Liz gasped. Her voice was hoarse, her throat closing. “You’re back...really here.” Her words were a strained whisper. Her eyes stung. She dug the heels of her hands into them, needing clarity. Liz froze on all fours, staring at Duane sitting in the caramel suede chair he’d bought her for her birthday.
The flesh of his bare chest sparkled. Around his neck hung the braided leather necklace she’d given him. A shark’s tooth dangled from the thin string, nestled between his muscled pectorals. He had on his favorite jeans, the ripped and frayed pair she’d kept. His feet were also bare. He always sat like that...with one foot resting over the top of the other. Liz choked. Elated tears flowed like a rushing stream. “You always hated shoes.” Her anxious laughter rebounded around her. “Do you want something to eat?” She shook her head at her ludicrous question. Everything around him glittered, dusted with a pearly snow.
Her stomach turned. The evening’s meal that had settled was now thrashing inside her gut. Duane smiled at her, his rich, blue eyes more dazzling, almost electric. His hands were folded in his lap. The wide, gold band she’d given him glinted on his finger. Rich, brown curls fell over his brows, grazing the nape of his neck.
“Duane,” Liz gasped. Her voice was hoarse, her throat closing. “You’re back...really here.” Her words were a strained whisper. Her eyes stung. She dug the heels of her hands into them, needing clarity. Liz froze on all fours, staring at Duane sitting in the caramel suede chair he’d bought her for her birthday.
The flesh of his bare chest sparkled. Around his neck hung the braided leather necklace she’d given him. A shark’s tooth dangled from the thin string, nestled between his muscled pectorals. He had on his favorite jeans, the ripped and frayed pair she’d kept. His feet were also bare. He always sat like that...with one foot resting over the top of the other. Liz choked. Elated tears flowed like a rushing stream. “You always hated shoes.” Her anxious laughter rebounded around her. “Do you want something to eat?” She shook her head at her ludicrous question. Everything around him glittered, dusted with a pearly snow.
Her stomach turned. The evening’s meal that had settled was now thrashing inside her gut. Duane smiled at her, his rich, blue eyes more dazzling, almost electric. His hands were folded in his lap. The wide, gold band she’d given him glinted on his finger. Rich, brown curls fell over his brows, grazing the nape of his neck.
“What should I do? Am I’m doing okay? God, I miss you," Her lungs ached, her chest tight. Liz wanted to speak and scream at the same time. Paralysis numbed her body, its functions hindered. She could barely talk or lift a hand. She wanted to touch him, but she couldn’t move. Duane grinned. He raised his hand, giving her the thumbs-up. They used to do that if they got separated in a crowd and their eyes would meet, closing the distance between them. “Duane!”
***
Liz’s eyes popped open. Her body was cloaked in heat, her skin slick with sweat. She quickly sat up, the room spinning. The clock on the nightstand was in triplicate. She blinked, waiting for everything to right itself. Digital numbers glowed, 3:24 a.m. Liz kicked at the covers, the sheets soaked and sticking to her skin.
She leaned into the clock. Boiling bile rose into the back of her throat. Liz leapt to her feet and ran into the bathroom, lowering her face into the toilet. As her stomach returned all that she’d ingested, the tears came, hard and strenuous. Her head throbbed. She reached for a towel that hung on the bar above and wiped her mouth. She sat on the floor. Her nightshirt was soaked, twisted around her waist. A shuddering shiver sliced through her.
Tonight as Liz stared up at the ceiling, an answer she couldn’t quite grasp flashed through the darkness. The digital clock had spoken, jarring her with its numerical display. Duane’s date of birth was March 24.
***
Liz’s eyes popped open. Her body was cloaked in heat, her skin slick with sweat. She quickly sat up, the room spinning. The clock on the nightstand was in triplicate. She blinked, waiting for everything to right itself. Digital numbers glowed, 3:24 a.m. Liz kicked at the covers, the sheets soaked and sticking to her skin.
She leaned into the clock. Boiling bile rose into the back of her throat. Liz leapt to her feet and ran into the bathroom, lowering her face into the toilet. As her stomach returned all that she’d ingested, the tears came, hard and strenuous. Her head throbbed. She reached for a towel that hung on the bar above and wiped her mouth. She sat on the floor. Her nightshirt was soaked, twisted around her waist. A shuddering shiver sliced through her.
Tonight as Liz stared up at the ceiling, an answer she couldn’t quite grasp flashed through the darkness. The digital clock had spoken, jarring her with its numerical display. Duane’s date of birth was March 24.
http://www.amazon.com/Rearview-Mirror-Siren-Publishing-PolyAmour-ebook/dp/B00BC4G7FK/ref=la_B008BTX0W2_1_10?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1392456681&sr=1-10
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