A very, very, short story I wrote years ago by Mauricio Pereira-Pinto

(obviously Maurício wrote this, i just chose the pic)

A very, very, short story I wrote years ago by Mauricio Pereira-Pinto

por João Rosé a Domingo, 9 de Maio de 2010 às 0:10

Joanne felt warm, but not sweaty. The sun was setting and the beach was deserted. Just the two of them and the sea and the sand and the disappearing sun, taking away with him, for he was smiling, the last doubts and fears. Johnny's grasp was strong, certain but tender; why do ...I always sweat like a bastard? he pretended to stroke her back and wiped his hand on her jacket.
She didn't notice; I'm sure she hates my hands. But she didn't. She didn't even ever notice the sweat as much as he did. It was hard to look at the sea as the oblique sun rays hurt as fuck. But it was so warm, and the breeze so cool, they didn't mind looking at each other.
"Your eyes look yellow and deep", she said with a kiss. He felt a sea of tears rising to his throat but managed to control himself.
"Yours look just beautiful, nothing else” and he meant it. "Are you cold?" he asked after a long time of not looking at her.
"No, n...ot really. Why, are you?" she was thinking of when they met and things were just fun.
"A bit, I don't know. Maybe it's the come down. Those Es were strong weren't they?" and he felt some sort of flashback that didn't last. She was poking at his leg and it hurt, but he didn't want to say anything.
"Do you mind stopping it? "What?" she looked bewildered... and amused. She poked harder.
"That", he grabbed her hand and nibbled at her little finger, "sorry!" Joanne smiled and laid down on the sand, arms stretched back and breasts pointing out to the immense darkening sky. They're perfect, Johnny thought, wanting to touch them but fearing of being a little too unromantic.

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