"What's your favorite type of man?" he asked with a smile the size of a waning moon.
His deep blue eyes flashed into my mind. The way they lightened when he smiled and the way they darkened when he was being protective. The way they danced when he laughed and the way they focused on me when I spoke. A flash of him sticking his tongue out when he was focused on work. The everlasting image of him biting his lip when he looked at me. A small image of the way his muscles flexed when he moved furniture around our apartment the way I asked him. An innocent image of the way his eyes scrunching up when he laughed so hard he snorted. An image instilled in my brain of the first day he held my hand, that same waning moon smile.
"You are."
YOU ARE READING
Excerpts From A Book I'll Never Write
PuisiI always come up with stories, but I cannot elaborate on them. I can't even finish a two page short story, so I write one page little bitty made up scenarios. I just want to be able to share them with people who appreciate the writing.
