She missed holding hands the most.
Watching the way the couple across from her pressed palm flush to palm, fingers entwined and connected brought forth a wave of such longing. Sucking in a breath she tried to look away from their public intimacy but found herself unable to do so.
Their lips touching was at once tender and raw. A passion she remembered all to well. It made her miss the slide of lips against hers, communicating desire with the thrust of a tongue. She shifted in her seat thinking of how long it had been since she’d been kissed with any real fervor, as though life could be found by sipping from her lips.
A sharp twinge of jealousy burned in her chest watching them kiss. The need to feel the warmth of a man’s body against her back every morning lay like an ache in her heart. To wake to a heavy leg tossed over her own, a large palm cradling her breast or draped across her stomach, the gentle snores and hot breath caressing her neck. She missed the insistent throb of a morning cock jutting into the small of her back and the delightful sex that followed being woken by said stiff cock.
Stifling a sigh, she smoothed a hand down her coat front before putting her hands in the pockets to ward of the chill. Her eyes wandered to the opaque windows, catching a glimpse of her face so different now than when she first met him.
Not a young woman with her paramour eager to have her. Her hair poked from beneath her red cap, revealing the natural black had disappeared replaced by a shock of white. Wrinkles dominated a once smooth face, creasing from forehead to chin. Only her eyes remained the same bewitching brown. Beautiful enough to catch and eye are two.
Laughter bubbled up at the thought of snaring another man at her age. It was almost absurd to think. He’d been the only man worth catching anyway…
She missed him, his heat, his love. That change was the hardest to bear, and one as permanent as the white of her hair.
Her eyes moved back to the couple snuggled close. To whisper to them the advice to enjoy what they had while it was fresh hopped up on her tongue ready to burst forth, but she bit it back. They’d learn like she did.
If she could do it all over again, she would’ve held his hand more.
Oh how sad…and beautifully written.
This story ended differently than it started in my head. The first line came to me and was a direct reflection of a longing I had, but the story changed as I wrote it out.
I’m always amazed when that happens while I’m writing.
I find the end result more satisfying than the original.
Beautiful, yet sad. I will be thinking about this when I’m working tonight at the nursing home.
Aw, sad indeed. I hated being at the nursing home when I was in school. It depressed me in a lot of ways even though there’s wisdom to be found there.
So sad and makes me wonder what happened to him. Revealing as well to how precious love is and savoring it while you have it.
It is sad. I was surprised my brain took it here.