Prompt: Something you love.
He watched her as she let her hair down. It cascaded over her shoulders, falling effortlessly and brushing against her skin with a whisper. Her hand found it’s way through her tresses, her fingers pushing it out of her eyes and away from her forehead. She smoothed her palm over the back of her head, once, twice, three times. She pulled at her hair, forcing it into submission against her shoulders, brushing her breast with the inside of her wrist, as she did so. He wished she wouldn’t worry so much about her hair. It was so beautiful. She knew this, he knew she did, but still she worried.
He remembered the afternoon that they walked through the park, her fingers laced with his and she stopped mid-sentence and watched as an elderly woman passed with her dog.
“We almost have the same color hair,” she said, thoughtfully. He looked at the old woman’s gray, blue tinted hair and wondered, just for a moment, if his love had lost her mind. But then he caught her glance and his eyes trailed down to the copper dog, trotting happily at it’s owner’s ankles.
“You just compared yourself to a Cocker Spaniel,” he commented, his eyebrows raised. Her head turned as she followed the dog with her eyes. They turned a corner and disappeared and only then did she look back at him, a smile playing on her lips.
“I did. And his color is much better than mine. Mine will never be that rich copper color,” she said, squeezing his hand and pulling him forward. “I think my hair is turning brown, anyway. I hate that.”
Smiling fondly at her jealousy of a domesticated dog, he reached for her and took a lock of her hair between his fingers and let it slide across his skin. She turned to look at him, a surprised expression on her face. She’d been so preoccupied, fussing with her hair that she’d forgotten that he was there, watching her. He hooked his finger underneath her chin and pulled her face close to his.
“You beautiful today, baby,” he said. She smiled and he closed in on her, pressing his lips to hers and kissing her tenderly. She smiled against his lips and drew away, looking down at him dubiously.
“Yeah, but my hair…” she started.
“… is perfect,” he said, interrupting her. “I love your hair.”
She looked away, picking up the book that she’d been reading just moments before she’d decided that her hair was a mess. She then turned and looked back at him.
She pushed her hair behind her ear and smiled. “Me too.”
30 Day Creative Writing Challenge
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