Une impression sur ma peau

I could write down all the details of that night, how his kisses burned an imprint on my skin that I can still feel to this day. How his hands opened me petal by petal, delicately, as though I were fragile and deserved special care. But my pen wouldn’t do it justice.

At around 2 AM, I woke up from a deep sleep suddenly disoriented. Where was I? Then I felt his hands gently pulling me back into the cradle of his arms and everything came flooding back to me.


When I woke up again, I was alone. There was a note on the pillow next to me:

Forgive me for leaving without waking you up. It is just that you looked so peaceful I did not want to disturb you. Tonight, if you let me, I will invite you to my humble home – my real home – and cook for you.
I’ll be here for you at 8 PM.
Au revoir until then,

I hugged myself, still smelling the lingering spice of his cologne on my skin, on my hair. I was tempted to pinch myself to see if I was really awake. If this was really happening.

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