HE SMELLED SWEET FLOWERS

© Dana W. Paxson 2005

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HE SMELLED SWEET FLOWERS

1563 4D

He lay in the bed in what he told himself was a dream. Marra shifted in the chair beside him. Dizzy, he turned his head, and turned his head, and turned his head, half afraid it might not stop turning until his face was buried in the pillow.

The old woman had unfastened the top of her coverall, showing smooth, firm breasts. She squeezed her left nipple with her fingers and thumb, urging out a few drops of clear viscous fluid. Taking the fluid on her fingertips, she reached to him and touched it to his lips. Licking a numbness on his tongue, he smelled sweet flowers. He lay in a bed of them and dreamed a new sky overhead. Warmth caressed his sternum and lifted him like a child into space.

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