Chapter 64: Poppers
“Do you fuck your wife like that?” he had purred into the dark. “You know I do,” he had answered wrongly with alkyl-nitrite-fueled honesty. Showered and dressed now, standing on the balcony outside their usual room of two years. Silence, as they look toward Rock Lake over the always empty beach. They embrace, then look into each other’s eyes. Their foreheads come together, they breathe each other in. They kiss a kiss filled with passion and conclusion. The expected fob-activated squawk of his car. Kiss not even done, but he’s ready to leave. Now the T: wasn’t that always so?
Storied Orlando is a micro story project by Scottie Campbell. Each story is 100 words or less.