Short Story

You’re Looking Younger Each Day – Brooke Safferman

“If there’s anything I hate, it’s the sound of children laughing. Especially in the summertime,” he said. The couple rocked back and forth, slowly, on their front porch. She was 26he was 32.

“My! However could you say such a thing, Denton!?” she exclaimed. Her steady rocking never ceased.

“I mean it, Maggie. I shiver at the thought of us growing. Growing and growing and growing.” Each morning, they would go outside to their porch. The chairs never changed, but their owners grew every day.

“Well, Denny, I’m rather excited about growing! Just think – we will have the Law to take care of us, then! No responsibilities whatsoever. When we lose our teeth and the sharpness of our thoughts and the ability to walk without assistance, it won’t ever be our fault, Denny! No, I’m excited for life to take its natural course with us.”

“Youth… who needs it…” he grumbled.

“Now, Denny, I’m serious! Stop that talk!” She swiftly rose from her chair. It continued to rock, even without her presence.

“Oh, Maggie… you’re looking younger each day. Younger and freer, without a care in the world. With your long, long legs pale and delicate. Your eyelashes have so much fringe! My word, what fringe you have! And those lips…” With a smirk, she took his hand and led him into the house. His heart sunk in his chest at the sight of how beautiful her body was, each curve highlighted by the sun trickling in through the windowpane. Gossamer curtains tickled the screens pushed open. She was so young. Almost a child, even. One day, he’d be without her.

Advertisements
Standard

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s