Cleo’s roses.

I smiled. The doorway was in shadow, in the meekly lit room, and while smiling I could feel eyes bear into my neck and ruffle my hair. It almost seemed unorthodox.

The candles were sauntering, flickering, the wind making them silently laugh.

My eyes stung as the soft, familiar scent of Lavender hit me. I empty-heartedly sighed, I knew who it was.

The room was vacant excluding the two of us. A storm outside threatened destruction but the threats were empty and weak as we were lying in Summer.

The walls became a tight enclosure where I didn’t feel comfortable and the windows were my only escape. The room was bare except for a four poster bed with creamy, linen bed sheets that screamed comfort and contentment.

I hadn’t seen him in months but I hadn’t forgotten him, I’d never forget.

My body fell into the tempting bed sheets and my emerald eyes shivered with waves of exhaustion. My body shivered from the draught.

I knew the doorway was concealing him. They were friends, it’d always let him lose himself when he needed to, let him forget his problems, let him escape.

Escape me.

I felt the shadows move and heard the crunch of leather boots against the floor boards. I didn’t open my eyes.

I just lay there and waited, waited for any first words, waited for the beating to begin.

Or the sex, the sex that made me wonder why they called it making love.

I never saw his face as he touched me, I knew that in the morning he’d be better. He’d be back.