I missed last week’s Friday Fictioneers; for friends and followers, my previous post explains what happened. All is still not well but this is not the place…
Word Count: 100
She stands erect, eyes forward never moving, as we watch her from the corner of the square.
Her long blonde hair is tied back under her helmet, her uniform immaculate as always. I want to touch her, but cannot.
Occasionally she will come to attention, march to the post across the courtyard, turn and march back, but I haven’t time to wait.
Last night she wasn’t immaculate as she abandoned herself to desire. Passion spent, we slept entwined, waking early for her to take up her post.
We walk away. I have to get the children to school.