I stand under the moonlight, my long, sinewy arms outstretched, my hands splayed to catch her silvery rays. She is mine and I am hers: the Lady of the Night. I shiver as she smiles at me and caresses my naked body with cool, tender whispers. From deep within a howl emerges, rising to my lips, and slowly I lift my head to declare my love to the world.
A voice cries through the stillness of the night, interrupting.
“Honey, supper will be ready in 5 minutes.”
Reluctantly I turn from the maisonette window and draw the curtains.
Reality calls.
Author bio: Robert Morschel is a writer of software in London, and words at http://mulledvine.com.
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The last three lines transformed my opinion of this one! I feel sorry for his wife.
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