Good Things Come in Pairs

Annie — Sun, 08 Feb 2009 13:34:08 +0000

The train coming to a halt jarred her awake, and she sat up in her bunk, blinking into the cool half-light of dawn. Or dusk. She really cannot tell through the window that might be frosted or might merely need a good washing. “Where are we,” she calls into the room.

“Nice way to greet the morning,” her companion answers, though his voice is merry enough. “We’re at the half-way mark. Stopped so people can take pictures of the sunrise, I imagine. Do you wanna?”

She hesitates. “Not that I wouldn’t love a shot of the twin suns, but frankly, if I’m going to be awake at this hour, there are things I’d rather do.”

“Oh?”

“Mmhmm. Trespassing upon your person, for a start.”

“Darlin’ it’s not trespassing if you’re invited,” his reply is quick, and stirs her to laughter.

“Am I, though?” She asks.

“You are, if you’re sure.”

“I’m hardly some innocent virgin, you know,” she states, jumping from her top bunk to the floor below. It’s not far, a few feet.

“With your own kind, no, I suppose not, but, darlin’ just because I look human doesn’t mean I am…entirely.”

“You’ve got all the same parts, don’t you?” She moves closer, then ducks under his arm, so she’s standing between him and the tiny sink. He’s a head taller than she is, and she can see his eyes, glowing amethyst, reflected in the mirror.

“Oh, all the same, and then some.”

“What does that mean, ‘and then some’ ?”

He wraps his arms around her, presses his pelvis to her backside. “The suns aren’t the only things that come in pairs on this world, Darlin’.”

In the mirror, she sees his eager grin, and her own spreads to match it.

Written for the Cafe Writing February Project. Option Six. Pick three.

Spearmint

Annie — Sat, 24 Jan 2009 07:13:23 +0000

As a child, I would ask my mother to brew spearmint tea on cold winter days. She would keep the leaves submerged until the tea itself was just on the verge of bitterness, and then I would spoon in so much sugar that it was a wonder my teeth didn’t retract in fear. If there was snow, I would retrieve some, from the top of the balcony rail where it was clear and clean, and then I would gently float it atop my cup, in much the same way that one might spoon whipped cream onto hot chocolate.

Spearmint tea is a bit less harsh than Peppermint, and while the latter smells like the red and white barber pole stripes that swirl around candy canes, the former has a distinctly green taste that is at once softer and more pungent in a way that evokes the spongy carpet of a forest floor, the coolest breeze on the hottest summer day, the tang of salt water that flows in tears and oceans, and the sweetness of a mother’s kiss on her sleeping daughter’s sun-warmed brow.

Tea & Moonlight

Good Things Come in Pairs

Spearmint