Sylvia's P.O.V.
The last time I saw him was that morning. I remember poking fun at his wrinkles, and the taste of coffee in his mouth. Not once did I imagine what he was planning, and yet by then all the little cogs would have been set into motion.
"What do you want to be when you grow up Sylvia?" He asked me.
"I want to be with you."
I can still recall the way in which his muscles tensed at my reply. The way he solemnly shook his head. The way he looked away.
"I want to be with you forever" I said again.
"Today is our forever."
I remember sitting on that kitchen counter in my t-shirt wrapping my legs around him. The dip in his back, the few hairs he missed while shaving on the side of his cheek. Everything about him quietly spoke of his love for me. He kissed me like so many times before, wrapping his arms around my whole body. Lifting my chin to his. Grabbing my hands and guiding them along his torso. Familiarity with every edge and curve. Being one.
There is only one Last Kiss.
YOU ARE READING
21 Brook Street
Short StorySometimes things that shouldn't happen... happen. Sometimes the most twisted of things are the most beautiful. Sometimes you just can't move on.
