The Memory of a Confession

The memory that keeps returning, is the one where you slipped off to nap…only to return an hour later to whisper your confession in my ear.

We were with friends, you had an extra glass or two. We all though it odd that you would sneak away, but maybe the drinks had more sway than you had intended. To the guest room you went.

I was outside, on the back patio when you returned, enjoying a glass and some quiet. Our friends inside, tidying up the kitchen after the dinner they had prepared.

You plopped down next to me, hair a little disheveled from the pillow.

I asked if you felt better. You told me you felt fantastic! I was glad that the nap helped.

You whispered to me that you didn’t nap at all. You slowly brushed your hand against my cheek.

I could smell the slick aroma on your fingers.

Your sly smile said that it was time to go…

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