HandsA Story by D S RollinsWe do a lot of with our hands.The soapy water sloshes in the sink. She places the plates in the rack. They clink together. She sighs, taking the white hand towel and dabbing it all over her hands. She hangs it back on the rack and smears the excess water on her grey sweat pants. A satisfying sigh, she walks into the living room, playfully putting her hair into a bun, and letting it loose again. “Mummy!” Her little daughter exclaims. Her small fingers meet her thumb as she tugs onto her mother’s index finger. “What is it honey?” She says placing both hands on either side of her cheek. “I’m hungry” She says, forcefully pushing out her bottom lip. “Well," She says smiling. "You're in luck! I've made your favourite, Macaroni!" “Yay!” Her small arms fling above her head, like she is on a roller coaster ride. She kisses her on the cheek and then pinches it. ----- "I love you" He says calmly. He holds her hand, analysing every wrinkle and crevice. He trails his thumb along her life line in her palm. "I do too." She says, taking his hand and placing it in hers. The warmth of his hands eliminate the cold in hers. He smiles, feeling the silk of her skin. --- "How am I going to tell my parents?" He digs his face in his hands. His long fingers cover his eyes. "Don't worry, it'll be fine." She reaches out and strokes his upper arm. Her skin is soft, like the fur on a newly bought teddy bear. His face is free from the prison of his fingers. A weak smile creeps on his face. "Promise?" His eyes are pleading. "Promise" She says, stroking his cheek with her thumb. © 2011 D S RollinsAuthor's Note
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1 Review Added on January 7, 2011 Last Updated on January 7, 2011 Tags: love, expression, relationships AuthorD S RollinsLondon, United KingdomAboutI am a writer. My heart and soul are in the words I write down. I've had this issue where I can never express myself fully in words, I write to express what my mouth cannot. It's freedom. I l.. more..Writing
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