Writing Challenge ~ January 2015

WRITING CHALLENGE ~ JANUARY 2015​

You can involve the prompts themselves in your piece and make your link to the prompts as obvious or as subtle as you like or use them simply as inspiration for something else. You can use part of the prompts, just one aspect of the images, or use them in their entirety.

As there are several prompts you can of course chose to use all of them in one piece or write one for each…again, it’s your writing, your challenge. You write whatever you’re inspired to write!

The word limit for this challenge is 2,015 words and your submission can take whatever form you desire – poetry or prose, complete story or a vignette. Erotic or not, serious or light hearted, it’s whatever you want it to be!!

Post only your submissions in this thread, constructive comments and reviews are to be posted in the appropriately named – Comment and Review Thread
And please, if you do take the time to read? Please just take a few more minutes to leave a comment.
The deadline for this month’s challenge is Friday 30th January 2015, with February’s challenge hopefully going live over that weekend.

Previous challenges and reviews can be found here.

Happy writing!

The snow had fallen overnight, a crisp, clean blanket of white. It cleansed everything, and as she looked out the patio doors at the bleak trees, she knew it was a sign.

It hardly ever snowed this far south. But when she had seen the forecast, she knew they would get it bad. They lived high up the mountain, and she had stood here almost all night and watched the flakes flying. There wasn't a breath of wind and it fell silently, changing the colours in their garden from grey to white. Her reflection stared back at her thoughtfully. It was still dark, but it wouldn't be long until the sun would rise.

He would be home this morning. And she was so ready for him.

She could tell by the colour of the sky. The midnight blue gently easing to a purplish shade. He'd come with the sun. He'd been away for too long. Almost ten weeks and she had been yearning for him every single moment.

"But it's only supposed to be a fortnight," she had said.

"I know, baby, and I'm sorry," had been his reply. "But they offered me a great incentive. And it'll mean I can take plenty of time off this time. When I get home. We can take a holiday. Wherever you want."

"You were supposed to be home tonight. I made dinner... I had a surprise for you..." There were tears in her voice and he felt them dampening his resolve.

"Then you can surprise me when I get home. Sweetheart, I have to stay. We've done longer than this before. Remember?"

She had nodded, and he had known she couldn't speak.

That had been two and a half months ago. After six weeks, she had stopped wearing her wedding ring. She had told him she didn't want to be left alone like this, and for so many nights she had cried without him. She wished for him to come home and slip into her bed, slip into her. True, there had been phone calls, late nights and sticky fingers. But the aching void in her chest never went away. And she knew it wouldn't, not until he came home. And that would be soon, she could feel it in her bones.

He knew she was waiting for him. She was always mesmerised by the snow. She'd be waiting at the patio doors, leaning against the kitchen table. She would be wearing the white jumper he wore on their honeymoon, that day they had tossed snowballs at each other and kissed while the wind howled around them. Her hair had been halfway down her back and the wind had stirred it around them both like a black, silken scarf. They'd been laughing and he'd spun her in his strong arms.

He wondered if they could do that today. Once they had reconciled, once he had closed the distance between them, kissed her, held her, made love to her in their bed. He knew she couldn't be angry at him once he looked in her eyes. She never could.

He pulled the car up to the house, feeling the snow crunch under the tyres. She'd love the new car. It was silent, it was energy efficient. It was the first time he'd bought a five door. He left it in front of the house, he didn't want her to hear him. He got out, unlocked the front door and slipped in, removing his shoes, silently walking through the rooms.

The sun had just broke through the trees beyond the back lawn, but he couldn't see it. There she stood, silhouetted. Leaning against the table, her hands holding the edge. Her hair hung in waves to the small of her back. Her head turned slightly to her side, her eyes downcast.

Something was wrong.

"Hey there..." He caught sight of the wedding ring missing from her hand and he felt his stomach churn. "...beautiful."

A small smile played on her lips and she looked out the window again. He sat down in the chair beside the table, leaning over and caressing the hand that was missing her ring. She looked down at his fingers and then looked at him.

"Morning, handsome. Welcome home."

His fingers tapped on her ring finger. "What's this all about?"

She looked at him again. "It got kind of tight." She was blushing.

He smiled. "Tight? Did you comfort eat without me, baby?"

"Do you want your surprise or not?"

He laughed and nodded.

"Well, I had a different one, but I had to throw it way. It rotted. So now you have this." She moved around to the kitchen cupboard and pulled a box out. It was white, and wrapped with a silver bow. He looked up at her, confused as he unwrapped it and lifted out a bell pepper.

"It's a pepper," he said, bewildered. She was bent over, leaning on the kitchen table. His oversized sweater accentuated her small hands. She was grinning.

"It is."

"I'm confused."

"Do you want another clue?"

He shrugged, pushing the box and ribbon away as he set the pepper in front of him. "Do you want me to cook you a stir fry? I was hoping we could order in."

She was still smiling, and he sat back in his chair and looked at her. There was something different about her hair... Had she had it coloured? Or her skin... A new face cream? She was biting her lip and his bewildered look changed into something else. That was a universal sign between them, and he felt a familiar twitch as he looked up into her dark eyes. It was starting to snow again outside, and the sunlight reflecting off the snow made her look pale.

She was stooping a little as she walked to the bathroom, and returned with a bigger box. She set it in front of him. It was just a shoebox, stuffed with paper. He shook his head and started lifting the paper out, and found an envelope.

"I don't want a stir fry. I do have a serious craving for some pizza though. Maybe some raspberry ice cream, or a shake, too..."

But he wasn't listening. He had opened the envelope and taken the photograph out of it. It was black and white and he wasn't sure what he was looking at. He held the bell pepper in one hand and the photo in the other.

"I don't..." Then he noticed the white pen-shaped thing in the box. He looked back at the photograph, and then up at her.

And she wasn't his wife anymore. She was something else. She was smiling at him, her smile wide and glowing. She was standing straight and he noticed the way her hands were joined just underneath her belly, her belly that had changed a little. His sweater wasn't hanging awkwardly on her at all. His eyes filled up with tears immediately.

"Sixteen and a half weeks," she said quietly. "It's almost the size of a bell pepper."

He was staring at the ultrasound picture, his mouth moving, but no words coming out. There was a little red circle around a blob. A tiny little blob.

He wasn't sure how much time had passed when she came next to him, her fingers curling over the wrist that held the picture, her other hand over his shoulders, gently rubbing him. No words. She noticed his hands were shaking. She leaned over, setting the picture down, and lifted his hand. She set it across her middle, a little lower down, and rested her hand over his. He shifted in his seat, his other arm moving around her and pulling her against him as his head rested against her breast.

She felt warm, radiating heat, and he was scared to push his hand on her tummy.

"I love you. I wanted to tell you, every day, but I wanted to see your face. We can tell everyone together, now. But I just wanted us to know first. I wanted us to be the only people to know for a day."

He was on his feet then, kissing her. Both their faces were wet. Both of them were crying.

"I love you... so much," he whispered in between kisses. "God, I missed you."

She was leading him to their bed, shedding clothes along the way and relishing in the new senses her body was experiencing. "I love you too..." As they tumbled onto the bed together, he trailed kisses down between her breasts to her navel. "...we missed you, daddy."

His forehead touched her hip as he took a moment. He wanted to make sure this was one he never forgot.

Maybe Moebius Knew Best

Maybe Moebius had it right; every end's a start's an end. When the sun has set the moon is full again. Maybe infinity's a figure-eight for more than simplicity's sake, perhaps it's the twists and bends that turn us topsy turvy and right on back to the starting line again. Maybe Moebius made his strip a forest, forever drenched in twilight or dawn's sight or both at once. Maybe it's as simple as a gesture repeated ad infinitum, fingers touching tenderly though never at rest. Maybe every start's an end's a start; it's anyone's guess...but maybe Moebius knew best.

I saw him again as the night wound down. I knew he would come. I wanted to see him and not see him. I lied to myself to get myself to the party and now I had to pay the price. I should have left earlier when I first saw him. Instead, I waited like a fool for him to see me.

I spent the night pretending to be happy. Laughing with friends and mirroring their smiles, clinking glasses in toasts to the coming New Year. I prayed that he saw me, but I never caught his eye - purposely. I wanted him to know what he was missing. I forced my breathing to slow as I saw his smile directed at someone who wasn’t me. It was what I deserved. I should have left and now it was too late.

“Five minutes,” my sort of friend Stacy announced. I could see the couples pairing off. The first kiss of the New Year already anticipated in their eyes. I turned my back to him wondering why I came. I doubt he even cared that I was near. Like a fool I wore my cable knit sweater dress, the one that showed enough leg to tease him. He was a rock and wouldn’t cave to temptation. I had pushed him to far and I was too proud to pull back.

I leaned against the table as the countdown began. I abandoned my flut, not wishing to toast alone. At five seconds, I dropped my eyes to the floor and thought of all the things I should have done. I had done it to myself, created a New Year that I had no desire to travel through. I pursed my lips when I heard the cheering and closed my eyes to the kissing between those not as shallow as I.

I felt a hand enclose mine gently. It was warm and strong. I was afraid to look up at the fool who pitied my pain.

“Happy New Year, Love.” I knew the voice that spoke so softly. It melted my heart. I looked up into the hazel eyes I had been avoiding all night. There was no anger, no apology, no apprehension in those eyes. My pride collapsed.

“I am so sorr…” He interrupted my words with his lips. Demanding lips that promised more beyond the New Year. I cradled his head in my hands and we forgave each other without words. We melded into one, again and forever.

Starting Again


The air was crisp. Dry and fresh in the way that only such low temperatures could create. The powdery flakes that clung in fragile formations to the branches and twigs sparkling in the steadily rising sun. Winter brought shorter days which only served to make the light that much more brilliant when it shone. Contrasting more noticeably with the darkness that cloaked the land during winter time. No more so than in those first few days at the start of the year when the sun began to creep a fraction higher over the horizon, giving a few more precious minutes of its warmth with each passing day.

The snow was untouched, a perfectly smooth blanket making all that had died in the throes of autumn beautiful once more. Every branch, every stone, every field, all of it as perfect and sparkling as everything else. Only here and there was the perfection marred and even then only slightly. Prints in the powder, hares or squirrels going about their daily lives leaving their route behind, mixed in with tiny indentations from clawed feet where birds had landed.

She didn’t want to ruin it. It was so still. But she found she couldn’t help herself.

Laughing unexpectedly, she flung herself down into the snow. Feeling that odd burning sensation as the snow began to bite at the denim that hugged her legs, seeping through rapidly to the skin beneath. But she didn’t care. Laid on her back in the snow, with nothing but clear blue above and framed by whitened branches, she laughed some more. Her arms and legs sweeping back and forth, up and down, nudging the snow to the sides. Getting up was just as tricky as she remembered but eventually she managed it. Brushing briskly at the clumps of flakes that were sticking stubbornly to her jeans, she turned and looked down at her handiwork. The imprint of her body in the snow altered by the movement of her arms and legs to give the impression of wings, and a skirted garment. A lone snow angel in the middle of the forest.

She stood for a while, until her giggles had turned to sobs and then eventually silence came once more.

These walks helped, she knew they did. Getting out of the house, making herself get dressed, all the little things that added up to the illusion of having a life.

She frowned to herself. She did have a life. She did.

All that had happened, as much as she wished much of it had not, proved that she was alive and she should be grateful for that. The time away from the rest of the world was supposedly to help her find herself again. She didn’t realise she’d lost herself until the day that the grieving seemed to have passed and she had…nothing left. All that seemed to remain was the sense of loss, the pain of what had been taken from her.

The future. That was what she needed to look towards. Try to leave the past behind her.

Another day turned to night turned to day. Another morning meant another walk. The small cabin she’d been calling home for the last few weeks was surrounded by stunning scenery. She’d taken a walk her first morning there and more or less followed the same path every morning since. Her pace slow and steady, letting her gaze and her mind wander. The brand new hiking boots her best friend had bought her when she’d set off were now considerably less pristine than the first time she’d walked the trail. The sunny yellow suede now marked in places with mud and watermarks across the toe, but they were easily the most comfortable shoes she’d ever worn and they were perfect for climbing over fences and scrambling over fallen trees when the desire over took her to do so.

As she turned away from one of her favourite views, sat upon a dry stone wall which looked out over the valley beyond, she frowned a little as she began to cross the open ground before the trees took over the landscape.
The path through the snow cut by her own feet over the last few days seemed deeper somehow, wider almost. Dismissing it as just a trick of the light, she trudged on, feeling the wind coolly stroking her cheeks and bringing forth the colour that would decorate them for a while after she went back inside.

Heading between the trees, following the clearest route among them she soon found herself where she had stood the day before. The rising sun shining through the trees before her, its warm light the only real colour in an otherwise monochrome vista. Long thin, icy blue toned shadows being cast upon the snow and reaching towards her. She followed their route over the ground to where they reached her snow angel from the day before. Her smile returned as she thought back to how wonderful it felt to do something so childish and free and…

There were two.

The smile dissolved into a frown as she blinked and looked again. Her eyes, it seemed, were not playing tricks on her. Where she had left a single imprint the day before there were now two. One slightly larger but otherwise identical.

She thought she was the only one here. When she’d booked the cabin the owner had said how quiet the season had been and was likely to remain until the spring came. The snow had been late in coming and so the tourists just hadn’t come. That suited her. She wasn’t going there in the hope of forging friendships, far from it. She turned back and forth, eyes searching the tree line looking for something. Anything.

But there was nothing. Nothing to indicate there had been anyone there but herself, save the fact that her snow angel had somehow acquired a partner. It was sweet, she supposed, whoever had done it. It was nice that there were now a pair of angels side by side in the snow.

She smiled as an idea came to her, a memory of sorts. Pulling glove covered hands from her pockets she set to work. Gathering and shaping the snow directly beside this second angel. Piling it, patting it. Flicking hair from her face as she worked in the steadily rising sunlight. Shaping the heap of collected snow into a more defined shape. Soon a snowman stood over the angels. A tall slim body with a carefully shaped head on the top. Hunting around she found two fallen branches to use for arms and rooting in her pocket produced two small pieces of foil from a candy bar from goodness knew when. Smoothing them carefully in her fingers she eased each one into the snow that made the head. Pushing the corners in to leave two roundish patches of silver.

“Always nice to see someone with a twinkle in their eye,” grinned, wiping her gloved hands off on her coat and stepping back. A nod and soon she was on her way once more.

The next morning she found herself almost excited to see whether the same thing had happened again. She still took the time to enjoy the fresh air and the views but her step through the snow was noticeably brisker than the days before. Over the stile set into the wall, across the open ground and into the trees. Her teeth fastened excitedly as she rounded a bend in the path and reached the slight clearing where she had made her angel. The growing smile faltered when she could clearly see there was but one snowman standing sentry beside the angels. Walking up she checked the ground to see if another angel had been made but there were only two. Sighing she looked back to her snowman and then the smile returned. The snowman now had three buttons down his front and a nose fashioned from what looked to be either lumps of coal or small black stones.

When she left that day she added a mouth of a bent twig and the hat she’d shoved in her pocket. Woollen and a warm red colour, she’d never worn so it didn’t seem to matter if it was blown away or taken.

Every day she returned to the snowman, never seeing another soul, and every day something else was added.

The next day there was an umbrella leant up against the body. She added a handkerchief to a pocket whose outline she etched into the snow with a twig.

The following day a warm scarf was swathed around the snowman’s neck. She couldn’t help but lean close and smell the soft fabric. It smelt of aftershave, something fairly light but undeniably masculine. It was more than a little pleasant and for a second she was almost tempted to unwind the scarf and take it with her. Instead she left it where it was and added a pair of mittens to the stick hands sticking out from the body.

The days went by and slowly the scene grew more elaborate. A snow chair was fashioned and then a snow table. She brought a small package of oatmeal cookies in a small box to leave on the table, the next day he left a generous wedge of fruit cake in greaseproof paper in their place.

And then one day, a week or so later, the snowman had an envelope threaded between the twigs of his ‘hand’, the mitten having been removed and carefully left hanging out of another ‘pocket’ drawn lower down the body of the snowman. Grinning she gently pulled it free and opened it. A single page had been folded in half and a brief message had been written in a smooth hand.

'I wanted to leave you a message with our mutual friend here but, between you and me, he’s not overly talkative so I wasn’t sure it would reach you if I just told him what I wanted to say.'

She laughed.

'He and I have both noticed that there’s something sad in your smile sometimes, which makes us both feel sad for you.'

She frowned, feeling an unexpected scratch in her throat that was usually followed by tears, and gave another look around.

'It feels like you’ve lost something. Someone maybe. And if that’s the case, please know I’m sorry for whatever loss you have suffered. But things have to be lost so new things can be found.
Every new beginning comes from some other beginning’s end.
Perhaps it’s time to stop thinking about the last one finished and how the new one will start…?'

The letter was folded with shaking hands that had nothing to do with the weather and pushed into a pocket. One finger left her addition for the day, a heart drawn onto the chest of the snowman.

The next day a snowstorm moved through the valley and she knew she couldn’t go walking. The sky leaden and the wind fierce. Instead she read and reread the letter from a stranger that seemed to touch her so deeply inside.
Moving on was all well and good but it was hard. So hard. She knew she had to, she’d left the ruins of her old life to try and find the foundations of a new one. Perhaps this note was the first step along a new road.

She cried that night, more than she’d done before. The wind howling by the windows and across the top of the cabin’s chimney while she let herself wail out her grief. Before she stumbled to bed with an aching head and sore eyes, she lit three candles in the window. One each for the friends who’s playful game near the water’s edge had ended in a splash and then a yell for help as an unseen current tugged at sodden clothes and dragged them downstream and the tallest for the fiancé who had gone charging into the river after them and hadn’t returned.

The next morning dawned bright with not a cloud in the sky, as if the storm had never happened. Fresh snow sparkled on the ground, all footprints erased.

A new beginning.

She smiled at the thought as she strode away from the cabin towards the clearing. She knew the snow angels would be long gone, buried beneath the inches of new snow that had fallen in the night but that seemed fitting somehow. She trudged through the snow until she reached the clearing and her snowman, who was more than a little covered with snow but it was something else that caught her eye. A set of footprints leading away from the snowman across the virgin snow and a small arrow made out of sticks lying beside the path the person had made.

Without hesitating she began to follow the path. It led out across what she assumed was a pasture of some kind in the summer but that offered a different view of the valley from the one she was used to. Hills rolling down to meet in the middle and a river winding through the heart. The rising sunlight turned the water to a meandering band of gold in the relative gloom down there where the sun didn’t fully shine. It was stunning. But on she pressed, following the footprints wherever they led. Once or twice she tried to match her feet to the holes left in the snow. Whoever they were they had significantly longer legs than hers and she giggled as she almost lost her balance.

The footprints rounded the curve of the hill and headed towards one of the many walls that criss-crossed the land and that was when her step faltered ever so slightly.
There was a figure by the wall and somehow she knew. This was her angel making, snowman decorating, letter writing friend. It had to be. She felt a little sick at the thought. The scent of the aftershave from the scarf coming to her on the breeze as she approached.

She should run. If she ran they wouldn’t meet, if they didn’t meet they couldn’t mean anything to one another and if they didn’t mean anything…then nothing bad could happen.

All of these thoughts flew through her mind while her boots continued to propel her towards the wall and the man who turned to greet her.
He was tall. Taller than her at any rate and his eyes were bright. Blue, like the sky.

“Hello, at last.” His voice was low and gentle in tone, it wasn’t quiet but it was soft.

“Hello,” She smiled, suddenly wishing she’d thought to wear a hat so he wouldn’t see the windswept mess that had to be her hair.

“I was hoping I’d see you today.”

“Me too.”

“I’m sorry you’ve been sad.”

“So am I,” she said softly, “but then if I hadn’t been sad, I wouldn’t be here.”

“That’s true.” His lips parted as a warm smile revealed even white teeth. “While I wish that wasn’t the reason, I am glad that you are.”

“And you were right,” she added, watching as he tipped his head slightly to the side clearly bemused and then explaining. “One beginning is over, I think it’s finally time for something new to start.”

There was a pause in which there was no sound at all. No wind, no birdsong. Just silence. Each of them looking at the other.

“Tea...?” She offered. “I believe conversation goes better when there’s tea and, whenever possible, cake. I feel there’s a lot for us to talk about and, fortunately for us, I have both.”

“Tea.” He agreed with a nod and an even warmer smile, offering his hand to help her over the stile.

Together they walked along the path, leaving behind angels and men, heading towards the cabin and towards their new beginning.

The Gentle Giant

“Asshole.”

He has a wife. All this time and he has a wife. He was supposed to be the one. He told me he loved me. He made me feel special. It was all a big lie.

“Come on Amy,” he says trying to take my hand. “I didn’t tell you because it’s an empty marriage. I’m only there for the kids. I’ll leave her if that’s what you want. I love you.”

I yank my hand away, grab my coat and storm out of the bar. It is cold but I don’t care. I walk to the end of the street and into the park at the edge of the river. Everything is frozen. The sun is about to set sending long streaks of shadows across the snow covered landscape. I continue walking deeper into the park, past the trees and to the river’s bank. I sink down on my knees. I cry as hard as I have ever cried.

Darkness begins to settle over the countryside. My feet are frozen. My fingers are numb. The knees of my pants are soaked. There is a gaping hole in my soul. It’s like someone has reached in and yanked out a part of me. How could I have been deceived like that? He seemed so kind and gentle and caring – but all along he was a liar and I was a fool.

“Miss?” A voice behind me disturbs the quiet. “Are you okay? It’s awfully cold out here. Can I give you a ride somewhere?”

I wipe my eyes and see a huge man with a heavy coat and a fur lined hood towering over me. It is too dark to make out his face. Grief overcomes me and I break out in a fresh fit of sobbing. His arm gently takes mine and pulls me up from the ground. I am a mess. Instinctively I throw myself against him and bury my face in his chest. The tears continue to flow. He calmly rests his hand on my back.

“That’s okay Miss,” he tells me in a gentle voice. “It’s going to be alright. Why don’t we go back to my truck and get you out of the cold. It’s right over there.”

With his hand on my back he guides me to a truck that is parked close to the river. Its engine is still running. He helps me into the passenger’s seat. The rush of warm air hits me like a welcome friend. When he climbs in the driver’s side I see his face.

“John. Wha… what are you doing here?”

John and I went to high school together. Back then he was a great big teddy bear – kind and gentle and shy – somewhat of a loner. I didn’t know him well – only enough to say “hi” in the hallways. I don’t know why he is out here, but I am grateful.

“Amy,” he replies. “I didn’t know it was you. Are you okay?”

I am feeling insecure and tell him the story of my broken heart. As I ramble on I can’t hold back the tears. He puts his hand on my shoulder until I am able to regain my composure.

“I’m so sorry, John,” I tell him wiping my face. “You don’t need to hear all this, but thank you for rescuing me.”

“Can I take you home?”

“No. That’s the last place I want to go. Too many bad memories.”

“I have a place a little out of town,” John suggests cautiously. “You’re more than welcome to hang there for a while. There’s an extra bedroom if you want to crash.”

I accept his offer. I sit on the couch in front of a big stone fireplace. He hands me a comforter and puts on some logs, stoking them to a roaring blaze. Slowly feeling comes back to my feet and fingers. He gives me a cup of hot chocolate which warms my belly, then sits down on the couch but not too close.

“I’ll heat up some chili and cornbread if you’d like.”

After eating, John shows me to the guest room. I shower and find an oversized sweat-shirt in the closet which I pull over my head. I crawl under the sheets and several layers of blankets. My body is exhausted and I soon fall asleep. I wake up in the middle of the night confused at why I am not at home. Then everything that has happened comes rushing back. I can’t sleep and I don’t want to be alone.

I climb out of bed and walk down the hall. The door to John’s room is slightly ajar. I push it open and step over to the bed. He is sound asleep. I move around to the far side and slip under the sheets and blankets. I press my body up behind John’s and put my arm around him. He stirs but doesn’t wake. I move my lips to his ear and whisper…

“Thank you.”

I pull myself closer and soon fall asleep. When the rays of the morning sun peek through the window I feel John stir and open my eyes. He is startled to see me there with my arm draped around him and tries to pull away. I grip him more tightly.

“I… I don’t want to be alone. Hold me. Please.”

John turns to face me and pulls me close. I close my eyes and tuck my head into his shoulder. His hands feel so strong and comforting. I kiss his neck and then his cheek and then his mouth. I feel the pain of yesterday slowly wash away in a storm of passion. For the next two days John fills the emptiness in my soul.

I return home with a smile on my face. I haven’t forgotten about the asshole who broke my heart but John, the gentle giant, has made me whole again.

To Have and To Hold

There was no sudden sound, no loud noise to pierce the stillness of the room and startle her. No, there was only the slight, almost imperceptible shift in the steady rhythm of his breathing, they caused her to look up from her reading.

Reaching out, she covered his hands where they lay folded upon his chest with one of her own, her fingers lightly squeezing. As she leaned towards him a soft smile graced her face, the same smile that she only ever wore for him.

"Have as nice nap?" she asked with eyebrows raised, as she smoothed her other hand over his brow.

His forehead furrowed briefly beneath her hand, and a look of confusion crossed his face. As though in his own mind he was trying to gauge whether or not he was still dreaming. He tilted his head slightly, shifting his gaze to look out the window. When he spoke his voice was gravel ed and heavy with sleep.

"What time is it?"

"A little after five in the afternoon." she answered, even as she turned her head to follow his gaze.

The sight of the sun's golden glow peeking through the stands of trees, its gentle rays caressing the snow covered ground was enough to widen her smile. Afternoons like this always helped to remind her why they had decided to move his bed out of what had been their bedroom and into this room. It wasn't for convenience sake, it was so he would always have view like this one.

She knew the medicine was to blame for his confusion, and not some trick of the light. Just as it was the medicine that was responsible for keeping him always tired, dazed and drained ... though at least out of pain. But she didn't want to think about that now - couldn't bear to think of it. And so, pushing the thought aside she returned her focus to the sun where it hung low in the sky. Only when she felt certain that he wouldn't be able to see the thought in her eyes did she turn to peer at him once more.

"You were out for a while there. Did you have nice dreams?" she asked, leaning in to brush her lips across his forehead.

"Mmm, a few..." he whispered, his eyes closing for a moment as he breathed her in.

Pulling back, she watched as his eyes eased open again and a grin spread across his face. When his brow creased but the grin stayed in place it was her turn to be confused.

"What's this? he asked, lifting her hand to look at it; even as the pad of his thumb stroked across an angry strip of crimson flesh that sat at the back of her hand just below her knuckle. "Been tinkering in the kitchen again, have you?"

She couldn't help but chuckle and shake her head at the teasing tone in his voice. Shrugging her shoulders, she wrinkled her nose before saying, "Old habits and all.. besides Elle and the girls said they might stop by a little later."

She smiled, knowing that bit of news would excite him and then added playfully, "I've got to have something to spoil them with, you know."

They both laughed then, two voices - one sound, happy and carefree... if only for a moment.

When she finally caught her breath again, she asked "Now, how about I spoil you?" Her eyes still shone with laughter, as she continued "Do you want me to get you anything?"

It was hard for her to ignore the way he had struggled to get his breath back, or how the colour had momentarily left his face with the effort. All the same, she fought to keep the worry, concern and fear from her eyes.

He only smiled in reply, gently shaking his head from side to side on the pillow beneath it.

"Now don't you try to run off." He grinned, and she felt his hand tighten its grip on hers. "All I want right now is to lay here and look at you ... be with you ... hold your hand."

She felt the flush that had crept steadily up her neck with his every word seep into her cheeks. Easing herself onto the bed, she sat beside him; unable to deny him such a simple request. She didn't dare look at him though, certain that she would start crying if she did. Instead, she let her eyes come to rest where their hands met.

As she looked at their joined hands, she couldn't help but think of how lucky she was. After all, a love like theirs was hard to come by. There were decades of love and friendship that could be found in the way he held her hand.

She could still remember the first time he ever held her hand. The memory as clear and real to her as that of the present. She had been sulking in a corner, upset over some boy she had liked dancing with her friend. She had been certain then - like all young girls are at some point or another - that her life was over and nothing would ever go right for her. And then ... then, he had held her hand.

It was his touch - more than anything, before everything - that she had fallen in love with first. Gentle and calm, questioning yet sure and full of reassurance. There was the promise of a lifetime in the way he had held her hand.

He had held her hand so many times since that first time. As they walked side by side, fingers linked with effortless ease. When they made love for the first time, palm pressed to palm, fingers gripping tight, trying not just to hold but to make two pieces one whole. Standing at the altar, eager hands joined in promise and prayer, as vows were spoken for everyone to hear.The warm spread of his fingers resting lightly atop her own, soothing her swollen belly. His hands supporting her with their strength as she gave birth to their children. Each touch new and different, yet familiar and comforting in its constancy.

She risked a glance at him then and found him still looking at her. One look into his eyes and she could tell that he had seen it too; way back to their beginning and all the way to now, this moment that was closest to what threatened to be their end. Like her he had seen the lifetime of memory that lived in a single touch of their hands.