I Blinked
so very cute- climbed into bed with her
- with the ashen pallor and anxious charisma of a new and fresh heartbreak
- a dying snake in a free road-side couch
- didn’t need Arturo
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I blinked. My lashes brushed something in the dimness, and gradually I assembled meaning from the rough pressure on my nose and forehead. I was lying face-down on the carpet. I rolled onto my side and tried to remember how that had happened.
“Aw, he’s awake,” cooed Dr Ferguson. “You look so very cute down there, but you’ll certainly be more comfortable up here.” She patted the mattress. I crawled the few feet across the floor and then climbed into bed with her. She wore only night-vision goggles, and her nude skin glowed with the ashen pallor and anxious charisma of a new and fresh heartbreak.
We seemed to be alone. “What happened to Arlo?” I asked in a somnambulist’s mumble.
“You were, it seems, too much man for him. He will never return to me.” She laughed, but couldn’t hide her bitterness.
“Sorry,” I said. I meant it, for although getting any affection from the viscount would be like getting a dying snake in a free road-side couch, I didn’t like to be the cause of her current unhappiness. “You don’t need him. You never needed him.”
“You’ve already shown me that,” she said. Her goggles glinted in the filtered moonlight. “Thank you, truly, for showing me that I didn’t need Arturo.”
“Arlo,” I corrected.
She cleared her throat. “Right, Arlo.” Rosy overtones flowed across the pallor of her lithe form.
bonus points for using them in order