Separation of white from yoke, the space between them grew, but it was automatic. Coming from sweat & passion of love making every night & reveling in each other’s natural movements, this was quite a change.
Red whispered to Jane, “We’re just setting out of the phase.”
Red loved Jane. She really did. There was no doubt about it, but the sadness in their bed, like a tide. It washed up in waves of boredom and fizzled amazement, some greater than others.
Jane whispered back, “I think a storm is coming.”
Red winked, “We could take cover,” and threw the blanket over them. The sea that was the bed rocked as they mounted one another, taking their turns, turning from each other for seconds. They reveled in their own pleasure, a little selfishly, fishing for a spot on the wall that wouldn’t distract them from the fullness of the peak.
It was after their respective fullness that the storm came. The mountains were moving, so scared of the trouble in the water. Bumping into each other,water spilling over the limitations.