FOREVER BREATHES THE LONELY WORD

I have a new story FOREVER BREATHES THE LONELY WORD in this week’s FLEETING magazine.

Forever Breathes the Lonely Word

A week later, when we revisited the abandoned meander and sat face-to-face in the dip and you told me harrowing stories of Bosnia and Afghanistan, I did not tell you that those lunchtimes, when the weather was warm and when we were clear of the building and would hold hands openly and cross the woods and the field and end up here, and you would undress and the sunlight would slither about your bare shoulders and afterwards you would whisper the names of places you wanted to see – Zanzibar, Marrakech – these were the moments I’d brooded on most deeply during the years.

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