The Ghost Of You [frerard short story]

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The small boy spins me 180 degrees, so I'm facing him completely.

"My love." He says, elegance lacing every syllable.

His lips edge their way towards my own.

Frank doesn't break eye contact, and neither do I, we must've both been eager to capture the utter beauty of our spouse.

Our eyes only flutter shut once our lips connect, a powerful and graceful kiss makes us melt against each other.

Frank's grip on my waist tightens protectively and I snake my hands up to run them through his hair, embracing everything about his very being.

His tongue softly trails along my bottom lip in which I jovially accept and part my lips.

We roam each other's mouths, electricity circulating in my blood.

His soft, cold finger traces my jawline, admiring something that I'm unaware I portray.

He breaks apart from the kiss, looking at me with a gorgeous toothy smile, "Beautiful as always, my love." He whispers before reconnecting out kiss forcefully, making me walk backwards until I balance myself with the white wall behind me.

🥀