Short Story Sunday - Banana Pancakes

I wake up smiling, with kisses on my lips. Many kisses, along the path, in the garden, on the roof, lying, sitting, walking, melting. Alone. The roof top reveals a treasure map of pillows and sheets but strangely empty. As is my bed.

Your friend said I was rather hot and he had certainly never met me before, although we had also engaged in dog down on many occasions. Interesting what make up and scent will do for a lady. Your friend continued that I should give you 'a go' as you are just so flexible. This had certainly been part of the package but not the winning deal. You just seemed so kind and Scorpio mysterious, as they are want to be. The mating dance continued. You fetched drinks. We talked. The world dissolved around us. The kiss.

Hershey Melty Kisses. Unfolding, Unraveling. Melty. Gravity.

We stagger from the party as if shot. As if injured from a hunt. Leaving pieces of us behind.
A moonlit graveyard with views of the ocean beckons. We roll to our positions and kiss and kiss and kiss. Finding. Losing. Escaping. Dreaming.

The magic is interspersed with the practicalities. 'So tomorrow begins with banana pancakes' say I. 'I think we can accommodate that' says he. 'I hope we can enjoy the scenery' say I. I've made certain allowances for that' says he. The Lantau escapade stretches out in front of us. A beautiful unravelling thread into the future.

We stumble to my house. Blind with kisses. Grabbing pillows from the bedroom. Flinging ourselves to the roof. Discarded ragdolls. There is no moon tonight. Enveloped in the night. Wrapped up tightly in the nights heavy sheets and our own arms.

And as I bend and dissolve and become and disappear, you utter the words. 'I'm sorry. I can't do this.'

A if in a play, I amuse myself with a new script. “I suppose banana pancakes are out of the question?'

You say sorry to yourself more than to me. We have changed stories and are no longer performing on the same stage.

I wake up with a bed strewn with pillows, curling like a cat, at the memories of what did and the thoughts of what could.

To be continued...