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On the Screen
Side by side watching the screen, he feels her glancing at him. “You want her, don’t you?” she asks, watching his eyes. “Of course not,” he lies. His face is a mask unreadable. “All I want is you, right here with me, this moment and tomorrow,” hiding his fear from searching eyes, gaunt with pain and sorrow. Her eyes are sad and her smile is wan, as if all hope is gone forever. Flickering images flash long, auburn hair. He tries not to stare at round, supple breasts bound in silky sun-dress; white with tiny, blue flowers. The sunshine behind shows long legs outlined as taunting, sensuous shadows. The camera’s view suddenly shifts, and he sees her chin lift; faint smile now renewed. She heaves a great sigh and tilts her head to one side, watching as two lovers kiss. Weak hands in fists she licks her dry lips and cries. Deep, anguished sobs of fear and regret rob her of breath as the coughing and gasping begins. Gently, with care he smooths back sparse, auburn hair. His touch is all he can give; it isn’t much yet, she’ll live . . . on the screen . . . in his arms . . . forever.
I have resubmitted this one because a few that commented on it did not seem to get the main idea; a few did. Was it the writer or the reader? It was fairly split down the middle the first time. I look forward to seeing how it goes. Thanks.
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