I squinted at it,
incredulously, hating the game. It was a cloud, and it looked like a cloud not
a poodle, because it was simply that: a cloud.
“It looks like a fish to
me,” I replied sarcastically.
Molly raised herself up on
one elbow, her curls falling like a shower of amber around her pale, freckled
face. “Aaron, you’re impossible.” I grinned and pulled her towards me in order
to kiss her. She struggled with mock resistance but we were soon rolling,
laughing amidst the daisies and wild, sweet-smelling Norfolk grasses.
Later, Molly lay cradled
against me under her grandmother’s patch quilt picnic blanket, her naked body
soft and perfumed against my skin. She tousled my hair with her fingers while I
lay with my eyes closed. “I love you, Aaron,” she said, snuggling up close for
comfort.
“Uhuh,” I replied, but my
mind was far away, daydreaming of journeys, university, and a future that I was
certain waited with bated breath for my arrival.
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