Slow Unsure Beat

Maisie was the little spoon after making love, and she felt warm and content in her hazy wakefulness, nestled in the arms of her love.

As she drifted off to sleep, her heart a slow unsure beat, the stars outside the window clean and silver in the dark, she wondered how many moments like these were left.

War was coming. War was inevitable.

 

Maisie’s love’s breath was hot on her neck, their skin soft and warm, and the night would pass peacefully.

The demons had been beguiled for a moment, and she tried to lose herself in that rare pleasure, and have sweet dreams, allow herself to feel safe.

War was coming. War was inevitable.

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