The Kiss by Sally-Anne Wilkinson


Here’s my latest Storgy short story. It’s only a two minute read.

THE KISS

by

Sally-Anne Wilkinson

typewriter love

In this moment, rising out of everything, it’s our first kiss I remember. To me, it’s far clearer than where we met or what we wore – though that’s something we argued about regularly. You said you wore green, but I’m certain you wore blue. And our first meeting? You were on the bench in the park, but you insisted it was a different bench – the one by the river. Your hair, an abundance of curls, was in a topknot that day, but you said no – you wore it down, freshly washed, the morning cold entwined in the damp spirals. I may have it wrong, I may not. It’s not something to worry about now. We have two minds, two sets of memories and emotions, two sets of eyes.

For the longest time, ensnared in rituals of work and family, we lost our…

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