Beautiful
One.
Her nimble fingers caressed the black and white posts. Her curled brown hair swished across her navy sweater, her, usually wide brown, eyes were closed, and her plump mouth was half way open. She took little breaths as her hands whispered themselves across the board. Her thoughts were inexistent. One could say a bomb could go off and she wouldn’t hear it.
Ron Falcón stood there aloof, watching her move her hands with grace. His eyes looked to her sweater, and then down to her legs. She sat there clad in black boy short underwear, and her sweater. She must’ve gotten up early , Ron thought. He tiptoed to a chair, and sat. Still being silent, he took out a pen and paper and begun to pen his thoughts down. Ever since Caramel married Lord Falcón, she would rise almost every Sunday to play on her toy. She would stay there all day, only to stop for food, until night time fell.
Caramel pounded on her little keys. She sat oblivious to the man, and concentrated on getting her thoughts out. Notes flew across her brain. Her eyes flitted back and forth between them. Her fingers quickened and her heart sputtered against the heavy treatment. Sweat beaded across her forehead, and trickled across her cheek.
Lord Falcón looked up, and studied the side view on her delicate face. Caramel looked famished. Ron sat his pen and paper down, and left the room only to come back with a tray filled with food and drink. He carried the tray to the side table before walking to where his barely covered wife sat. He laid a hand upon her and whispered quietly, “Time to eat Caramel.” He bent down to her exposed neck, and kissed it gently. “Join me, will you?”
She stopped, and looked back at him, “What time is it?”
He smiled a small smile before answering, “Just about noon.” He took her hand and brought her up to him, “I would like you to eat with me.” He kissed her lightly, and brought her to a chair. He seated her before seating himself, “Your favorite.”
They both sat quietly and ate. Caramel studied her food before saying, “You don’t have to sit with me all day, you know? It’s quite boring.” She looked to him, and scanned his blue eyes. She reached to push her hands into his black hair; so silky and smooth.
Ron caught her hand and brought it to his cheek, “I like to watch you play. It’s beautiful.”
Ron Falcón stood there aloof, watching her move her hands with grace. His eyes looked to her sweater, and then down to her legs. She sat there clad in black boy short underwear, and her sweater. She must’ve gotten up early , Ron thought. He tiptoed to a chair, and sat. Still being silent, he took out a pen and paper and begun to pen his thoughts down. Ever since Caramel married Lord Falcón, she would rise almost every Sunday to play on her toy. She would stay there all day, only to stop for food, until night time fell.
Caramel pounded on her little keys. She sat oblivious to the man, and concentrated on getting her thoughts out. Notes flew across her brain. Her eyes flitted back and forth between them. Her fingers quickened and her heart sputtered against the heavy treatment. Sweat beaded across her forehead, and trickled across her cheek.
Lord Falcón looked up, and studied the side view on her delicate face. Caramel looked famished. Ron sat his pen and paper down, and left the room only to come back with a tray filled with food and drink. He carried the tray to the side table before walking to where his barely covered wife sat. He laid a hand upon her and whispered quietly, “Time to eat Caramel.” He bent down to her exposed neck, and kissed it gently. “Join me, will you?”
She stopped, and looked back at him, “What time is it?”
He smiled a small smile before answering, “Just about noon.” He took her hand and brought her up to him, “I would like you to eat with me.” He kissed her lightly, and brought her to a chair. He seated her before seating himself, “Your favorite.”
They both sat quietly and ate. Caramel studied her food before saying, “You don’t have to sit with me all day, you know? It’s quite boring.” She looked to him, and scanned his blue eyes. She reached to push her hands into his black hair; so silky and smooth.
Ron caught her hand and brought it to his cheek, “I like to watch you play. It’s beautiful.”