SHOULDERS — a fiction

For when you don’t want to let go.

My shoulders are red. I woke up this morning with them hot against the bedsheets. In hindsight, I should have worn something over them — or at least suncreamed them. I can’t believe I didn’t suncream them.

Maybe I’m being a little harsh on myself. To be honest, I didn’t think I’d be out there for that long anyway. You’re normally home much earlier than that. Plus the fact that it was an unexpectedly warm day. All that led to… well, you know.

I had to check, you understand. Of course, it would have been impossible if your place didn’t back out onto the park. It’s actually quite a beautiful space to spend a couple of hours in the late afternoon. I’d always imagined it to be a grubby little spot, considering the area. I suppose I was proven wrong there as well.

But when your car drew up and you got out alone, it was all worth it.

Alone.

God, I had been so wound up by it. When you had told me that was it, I was so certain about your real reasons why. I’m glad I was wrong.

But the burn on my shoulders is still there. I know you went home alone, but there’s still something nagging — still something unsure. It’s like one of those cartoon devils, perching there, whispering ‘someone else, someone else, someone else.’

I think I’ll visit the park again today; spend some time on the swings, walk around the pond I saw on the map. I’ll make sure to pack suncream, of course; wouldn’t want to forget that again. You know, it could be quite a nice way to spend the afternoon. Hanging around; not caring about time; watching; waiting.

Originally published on Tumblr

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