Flash Fiction: I watch the rising and falling of her chest

I watch the rising and falling of her chest. She doesn't know I'm awake. Her gown is sheer, and she's half-illuminated by the moon. I watch the rising and falling of her chest. Her breath is slow and shallow, and I am mesmerised by the ridge of her clavicle. The faintest shadow of breasts. I watch the rising and falling of her chest. I stare at her, unable to sleep. I remember running my lips along her neck, my arms around her. I watch the rising and falling of her chest. I remember early mornings, breakfasts in bed, and furtive liaisons under the covers. I watch the rising and falling of her chest. I remember the taste of her lips. Her lips. Her lips. I watch the rising and falling of her chest. I can't wait for her wake up, for her to be mine again. The ECG beeps. I watch the rising and falling of her chest.


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