Thanks to Rochelle for Friday Fictioneers!
Stop! In the Name of Love
“10 minutes more,” Sean said.
Yippee. My feet dragged. Burning targeted both heels, which would be blistered and bloody.
I collapsed on a picnic table. Every muscle ached, even ones I don’t think belonged to me.
He pitched the tent, which I wished were a cabin. With a tub. And ice cold chardonnay.
The sun lowered. Loons yodeled. Crickets and katydids chorused. Fear accelerated my heartbeat.
After making a campfire, Sean wrapped an arm around my shoulders. “Thanks for this.”
I leaned into him, my pains forgotten. Unconvincingly, I said: “Camping yay.”
Compromise. Maybe the marriage counselor was right.
Sascha Darlington 3/23/2018