Strawberry Wine
Author’s Note: every once in a while I like sharing little bits of fiction that I dabble in. This is nothing cohesive to anything I’ve put up before but I really like how it came out.
This is nothing but temporary and he knows that. Yet he carves the memory of her into his mind in the same way she traces outlines in chalk against the cement.
Maybe it’s the empath in him that feels too much but even in their most settled of times he can feel the grief and heaviness that she carries on her shoulders. She is the ship on a dark storm-ridden night and he cannot wait until the day he loses her. Not because he wants her to be gone from his life, no, never that. But because he knows that the day she finds her way into the daylight he will be nothing but a foreign memory on her shore and she will be …safe.
There is nothing he wants more for Honey than to see her safe and happy.
Her hair picks up the sunlight and there’s a glow around her that he hides himself in. his fingers pick up the old acoustic guitar (ruby) that’s been discarded beside him. It was a gift the first time he’d played on a stage. His little sister’s fingers pointed to it ecstatically. It’s something that on his darkest nights he recalls.
Calloused fingers strum at the cords as he loses himself for a moment.
