Sunday, 22 July 2012

drabble 3: Petrichor. [100 words]

Prompt: Petrichor; the scent of rain on dry earth.

Parched throats and parched hearts. Sometimes she doesn’t know which is worse. A quick gulp of cold water, or a quick fuck against the nearest wall. It’s just never enough.

So when he takes her hands and presses a chaste kiss to her cheeks, breath uneven and skin still sticky with a sheen of sweat, she wonders if maybe this time it’s different. A flash of memories not yet made, of loud fights and comfortable silences, the lingering smell of fresh laundry and burnt dinners. She hopes..

Today though.. She grins and puts herself back together. Never enough, but someday.

(Author's notes: I don't know. *shrugs*)


colson said...

Scenes from a life before it became irreversible?

mousharilla said...

pure fiction :D

yoaniverse said...

I didn't know they had a vocab for the scent of rain on dry ground.

Thank you, fine lady!

Oh and btw, I don't know if it's just my dirty mind, or you were indeed describing masturbation to us.

'a flash of memories not yet made' love it!