Back to the Lake
Trish Tuthill
They met through a mutual friend and compared lives over dinner. During the entrée, they discovered that he liked to go on walks through the bush and she enjoyed photography. They skimmed over their past relationships, places they had visited, their mutual lack of children. The first time they danced, he whispered, “See how you fit, just so.” His fingers splayed on her back and the skin of his neck was impossibly smooth beneath her fingertips. Her body light and warm and ready to lean into him.
The second time they danced, his arm pressed into her back causing a heat she’d only read about in cheap paperbacks. The shoes she wore had a lower heel and she needed to tip-toe.
“I’ll shorten my steps a little.” His breath tickled her ear.
They had adjusted them
