I said it was beautiful, but she thought I meant she was beautiful. She was, of course. But when she kissed me I reeled, surprised that I might have elicited this; that she might have thought me worth the kiss.
I tangled fingers in her hair – women have long hair, I thought – and I wondered what it would mean to do this and mean it. But I was only looking at the sky, don’t you know? I was only considering a backlit branch when you instructed me in the contour of lips, when you taught me how it felt to be tall.
For more flashes prompted by this image, and to learn more about flash fiction, visit Madison Woods and explore the Friday Fictioneers.