Authors: Paul Park
He limped up onto the veranda, and opened the door of his own room. It was still in shadow. The slats of the shutters drew thick lines on the floor.
He hooked his cane over a chair, removed his hat, his gloves, his jacket, and his shoes. He was fumbling with the buttons of his trousers as he stood above the bed. Charity pushed the sheets away and rolled onto her side. Her eyes were closed, her face softened by sleep. He sat down on the bed and touched her hair, and she came awake under his fingers, turning up to kiss his thumb. “What?” she said. “What is it?” and he smiled. Nothing of importance. No. Nothing that can’t wait forever. He took off his trousers and lay down. Charity opened up her arms, still half asleep, still lingering in a countryside of dreams. But part of her was there with him, her body soft and strong, her skin tasting of sweat, her breath slightly foul as he found her mouth.