You’re going home – far from this place – and the moon is our bet. It’s my last grace for this last night.
My head bends as I sniff the vanilla of your hair. Maybe I should drop some into my coffee the next dawn. Maybe I should get some fragrance with the same scent for my apartment.
You depart from my embrace.
Without looking, I know, the moon has risen.
WORD COUNT: 102
Thank you for reading this story. If you want to talk about random things with me, do not hesitate to reach me through my “Contact” page. All the best love, my dear.