Member-only story
LOVING A WRITER-I I
Thirty days alone in a cabin.
Now I lay here in the cabin; it’s 3 AM. This beautiful being lying next to me is sleeping, breathing gently. I love to stare at her while she sleeps. I’ve come to love her breath. We often breathe into each other, exchanging our air. It allows me to climb deeper inside of her. I wish I could totally climb inside of her, be totally surrounded by her essence.
Her skin, her lips, her voice…no, I won’t bore you with all the cliches other writers feel must be incorporated for effect. She is so much more than cliches.
Our ‘escape to a cabin’ experiment worked! Or did it?
Because I have changed. I am not the same man that arrived here a little less than two weeks ago. All because I now love this stranger from across the ocean.
I watch the calendar as I count how many days we have left in this secluded spot. I calculate how many times we can make love. Making love to her cannot be compared to being with any other woman. I have never felt or even known a love such as this love.
I realize writers bond more deeply; writers love with more depth. And I worry I will lose my mind when I kiss her goodbye at the airport.
Can I call off my promise of one month? Do I dare try? Will we both awaken from this dream if I shatter the premise of it…
