This weeks 100 word piece for Friday Fictioneers. Photo by Roger Bultot.
His voice was barely a whisper, “Does he know you’re here?” I swallowed softly and lifted my face to touch across his cheek. “No” was all I could manage as the heady smell of him inflamed my skin sending a thousand tiny lightning bolts pulsing beneath my flesh.
I leaned into the fire, his touch like the blaze of burning sun. These feelings like a saw cutting loose the chains around my heart. I could almost hear the chains being sliced. Hang on… that was a saw. I pushed at his chest, ran to the window and just heard the roar of the tree as it fell. “Damn”