• Short stories

    Fiction: A lovely summer day…

    It's a lovely summer day, and here we are, cooped up in a damned meeting room. This is going nowhere. The conversations are frustrating as ever. I glare at you and you look away in embarrassment. You realise that asking me to join this meeting was a mistake. They have no idea what they want and we can't help them. You know I didn't want this client. You insisted.

    Two hours later, we walk out in frustration at our time wasted and with no conclusion in sight. You turn around, asking if I want to grab a drink. It's 8 PM after all. And it's still bright, the European summer being at its sunny best. I nod, still unwilling to forgive you for the waste of my time.

    You get me a drink, order some food and reach out to touch my fingers. I'm surprised, and quite confused at this sudden change in behaviour. I look up, only to see your eyes boring into mine. I raise my eyebrows slightly in silent enquiry. You smile. And something flips in me.

    What is it that makes my heart flutter when you flash that gorgeous smile? And why suddenly? We've known each other for years, decades even. Why did I never notice?

    Your breath on my neck interrupts my reverie as you whisper, "You were right. I'm sorry about today."

    I turn to see you closer than you've ever been. You slightly lift my chin and kiss me. Now I know. It only takes a minute for one of the worst days of my life to become one of the best.

  • Short stories

    Mini fiction: The ephemeral and the ethereal

    You hug me from behind, look into my eyes in the mirror and whisper, “You’re gorgeous”. Seconds later, I surrender to your will with love. I offer myself up to you, allowing you to explore at will, relinquishing control over myself. Never have I felt so loved, so desired.

    You gently caress the flesh, willing it to respond. You gather me into your arms, bringing the sheets around us. I wish time would freeze.

    Hours later, as we lay in each other’s arms, energies spent, you gently kiss my forehead and say, “how I wish this could last a lifetime.”

    But my darling, the terrible and the most awful truth is that some things aren’t meant to last. Maybe that’s why they’re so beautiful. Because they’re ethereal and ephemeral.