Member-only story
The Authentic Eclectic
Mouths in a Glass
“Lie with me.” She stretched, arching her wrists over the sofa arm.
The trees through the window tossed fitfully in the grey air.
“I’m going for a walk.”
Her mouth became a rosebud with the center torn out. “In this?”
He was already halfway gone.
He pulled a coat over his suit, not bothering to change, and entered the lawn still wearing his dress shoes. What little hair he had was assailed, and perhaps a few loose strands plucked free like leaves. He felt a sense of relief in becoming a part of the scenery.
He strode through the hedges and garden, unaware of the pale figure in the turquoise gown bobbing after him like a jellyfish. Her mascara made her head seem all eyes, especially in the cool when the face seems to shrink. The appearance of surprise did not leave her.
Beyond the garden, the expanse of neatly mowed grass, the sculpted trees, into the woods. Strange that the hounds did not come. Perhaps they could not hear. As he walked, he glanced about for apples, though it was the wrong time of year. The leaves crunching underfoot were some consolation.
She replaced her blue heels to protect her soft feet from twigs and holly prickles. The trees seemed angry. It was an…
