Awake For The Full Moon

I challenged myself to write something purely happy. (Which evolved into a whole series of purely happy microfiction.)

 

            The sunset must have been hours ago, but I can still feel its imaginary warmth on my skin. If I opened my eyes, I could see the full moon she was so excited about, but I’m not ready to open my eyes, yet, afraid of separating any dreams I might be having from reality. I don’t want to blink away the feel of my cheek resting on the softness of her uncovered chest or the grip of one hand on my shoulder and the other resting comfortably at home on my belly. I can almost ignore the scratching of tree bark against my exposed thighs…

            Suddenly, crash! I’m in the air. We’re on the ground, leaves all over. My eyes are open.

            I must not have been dreaming.

            There is laughter. Hers first, then mine. I say my butt hurts. She says she won’t kiss that part of me. More laughter. She picks a leaf from my hair; it snags. I yelp. She says she will kiss that part. She does.

            I see the full moon she was so excited about. I’m not dreaming.